


Miracles are Past

by Tigermoon98



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One, Transformers: Prime
Genre: Claustrophobia, Developing Relationship, Forced Bonding, Functionalism was awful, Implied/Referenced Dubious Consent, M/M, Mutual Non-Con, Non-Consensual Body Modification, Panic Attacks, Past Underage, Politics, Pre-Earth, Seeker culture, Slave!Warframes, memory sharing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-27
Updated: 2018-10-13
Packaged: 2018-11-19 14:29:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 44,715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11315331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tigermoon98/pseuds/Tigermoon98
Summary: The capture of the Prime should be a cause for celebration. Not another pawn in a sick and twisted game. But since when has anything gone right for Starscream?Optimus is putting this at the top of his 'list of very difficult days', displacing the day he accidentally became Prime.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not really sure how to explain this. It's been in my head for a few months now and really needs to get out. It features one of my favorite pairings (rare-pair Hell *sniff*) but it starts out dark and terrible. I have no explanation as to why I had to write this.  
> Title and tags are subject to change.

“Blah” = Spoken dialogue

::Blah:: = Comm lines

_ “Blah” _ = Telepathy

_ Blah _ = Private thoughts

~Blah~ = Bonded talk

//Blah// = Sign Language

 

  All characters belong to their original creators. 

 

  The capture of the Prime should be a cause for celebration. It was a sign of hope for the war’s end, for a victorious restoration of Cybertron. It was a light at the end of a long, long tunnel of battle-filled days and loss-filled nights. 

  For most of the Decepticons, it was an excuse to throw a party for one-upping the Autobots. Jubilant shouts echoed in the cavernous halls over the dull roar of a multitude of voices saying a thousand different things at once. The bubbly odor of high-grade wafted through the bowels of the Decepticon’s central base. 

  Starscream wrinkled his olfactories at the smell.  _ Irresponsible louts, the lot of them. We should be preparing for a counter-attack, not getting drunk off our afts. _ He stomped deeper into the subterranean building, ignoring the way the planet pressed down on his wings.  _ Mighty Megatron _ had summoned him to the brig/torture chamber, no doubt as an audience for the Prime’s interrogation. Because it was just no  _ fun _ to beat up a helpless mech without someone to  _ ooh _ and  _ ahh. _

_I swear, if he tries to offline the most important prisoner we’ve had in this_ whole slagging war _, I will feed him his own fusion cannon!_ Starscream jabbed his SIC passcodes into the lock and stomped inside, wings hiked to their most annoyed angle. 

  The Prime, a mute-box slapped to his vocalizer, twisted his helm to look at the white Seeker. Starscream glanced him over, making sure he wasn’t about to bleed out and die on them. That would be inconvenient. He snorted at his own thoughts. 

  “Well,  _ Lord _ Megatron?” He glared at the powerfully built Warlord. 

  Megatron hulked in the shadows on the other side of the Prime, harsh medical lighting casting highlights across his armor. At his SIC’s sneer, he turned, red optics meeting Starscream’s. “The  _ loyal _ second obeys his Master,” he mused. 

  If possible, Starscream’s wings lifted higher above his helm. “If you don’t mind, I have an army to babysit. What do you want?” He reached out with the air sensors in his wings, scanning the chamber. Something wasn’t right here. It settled in his tanks and made the energon there churn. 

  “You’re right where you need to be,” said Megatron cryptically. He turned around to peruse a selection of scalpels and energon prods. 

  Starscream covered his unease with an optic roll and dramatic ex-vent. “Please excuse me for not falling down in awe of your mysteriousness. Really, Megatron; you’re not impressing anyone. Look at Prime, here.” Starscream strode forward to stare down at the red and blue mech.  _ Pit, he’s nearly as big as Megatron. _ “He’s not even watching you.” Starscream crossed his arms and curled his lip scornfully at the Prime. Indeed, the blue opticked dolt was staring back at the Seeker, mouth moving uselessly. Starscream frowned, the prickling sense of  _ wrongness _ creeping up his spinal struts. He felt his wings tilt back ever so slightly. Suddenly, he realized what was wrong. What had been wrong since the second he set pede in this room. 

  He couldn’t sense his trinemates. 

  Sensors in his wings warned him too late of an incoming mech. He had time only to turn halfway around and catch a glimpse of purple plating before a heavy frame impacted him and pinned him to the Prime’s table. 

  “Get the frag off me!” he screeched, firing his thrusters on the mech’s legs. He heard a muffled yell of pain. A massive hand wrapped around his helm and forced his faceplates onto the Prime’s knees, holding him still for the other mech. The EM attached to the hand was one Starscream was intimately familiar with. 

  “What the scrap do you think you’re doing, you glitched up diode of slag-heap worthy-”

  “Shut him up, would you? I grow tired of his whining.” Megatron pressed harder on Starscream’s helm, fingertips digging into the back of his neck. 

  “Yes, my Lord.”

_ Ah,  _ that _ was the other EM! _ Starscream thrashed again, wings straining futilely. “So, you called your pet turbofox back from the east. Did the femmes beat you up, Shockwave? Did-”

  Megatron yanked Starscream’s helm back, exposing his throat. Shockwave slapped a mute-box into place and grabbed Starscream’s hands to cuff them. The Seeker wrestled to free himself, spitting out staticy curses and insults even as the mute-box wired itself into his vocalizer. 

  Shockwave locked the stasis cuffs and activated them, stepping back to let the SIC slump to the floor. 

_ What the Pit is this? _ Starscream snarled silently. He caught himself on his knees, vents straining as he fought the power draining cuffs. Red optics narrowed to deadly slits as he glared up at the other two Decepticons. He didn’t know what game they thought they were playing, but by the Pit was he going exact revenge for this humiliation. Beaten and cuffed in front of their own prisoner!

  “Much better.” Megatron paced around the table, clawed fingers scraping along its surface. He squatted down in front of his second and took his chin in his hand. “Yes, I think I like a  _ quiet _ Starscream much more.” He looked up at Shockwave. “Are you ready?”

_ For what? What sort of plan’s rolling around in your corroded excuse for a processor? _ Starscream attempted to bite Megatron, earning himself a slap that knocked him to the ground. The Warlord pinned him with a pede and ripped his null-rays from their moorings. They were flung, clattering, into a distant corner.

  “Yes, Lord Megatron.” Shockwave’s pedes carried him to the Prime’s table where he loomed over the bound mech. Megatron stood to watch, leaving Starscream alone on the floor. 

  He was still for a moment, recovering from the blow and reaching for his trinebonds. They were there, he knew. Thundercracker and Skywarp were on the other end; he just couldn’t reach them. It was like an unbreakable window sat between him and his ‘mates. And they weren’t going to notice their trineleader’s sudden silence. He rarely opened his end of the bonds. 

  Starscream rolled himself to his side and cast his optics over Megatron and Shockwave’s backs. The one opticked scientist was hunched over the table while the Warlord stood behind and to the side, watching. Starscream had no idea what they were doing, nor did he intend to hang around to find out. With difficulty, he got his pedes under himself and stood, wobbling as his fuel pump struggled to drive energon to his processor. 

  Metal rang against metal as the Prime jerked in his bonds. “Perfect,” rumbled Megatron. His pedes scraped the floor as he turned toward Starscream. 

_ Trapped. _ Starscream snarled, rattling his wings dangerously. His optics darted about, searching for something he could use as a weapon. Shockwave, beside the now-alarmed looking Prime, watched impassively as Megatron strolled toward the Seeker. 

  Starscream backed up, struggled to get his claws onto the stasis cuffs. He had clawed his way out of them before. Sure, he’d wrenched a few digits, but it was better than being taken by the Autobots. His thruster bumped something. Starscream stumbled, wings flaring in a vain attempt to keep his balance, and hit the ground again. Gyros spinning, he couldn’t fight back as Megatron lifted him by the base of his wings and hauled him toward the table. 

  Shockwave moved out of the way. Starscream blinked, resetting his optics -and tripled his efforts to escape. He spat curses and kicked; he fired his thrusters into Megatron’s legs. Because no,  _ no _ , NO WAY was he going to let them do this to him. 

  Megatron swore and pinned Starscream, cockpit down, over the Prime’s legs. “Kill his thrusters, will you?” He planted one hand between his wings and used the other to corral his pedes. 

  The Seeker screamed mute obscenities at the pair. He lashed out with his EM field, vents heaving for cool air. The Prime’s field was pulled close to his plating, indignant and frightened. Starscream channeled his fear into anger, because anger was almost as good as fuel. 

  Shockwave grabbed a pede and clipped the wiring. The thruster died, soon joined by its twin. 

  “Better.” Megatron lifted Starscream up single-handedly and turned him to face the Prime. The white mech recoiled, scrabbling to get his legs under him. Megatron simply shoved him forward, knocking his legs apart so he straddled the red and blue mech’s thighs. Optics round (with the first inklings of fear), Starscream stared at the Prime’s spike. That… was not going to fit. Not without work. It wasn’t quite as big as Megatron’s, but the Warlord took time to prepare Starscream. It wouldn’t do to cripple his favorite berth toy. 

  Starscream met the Prime’s wide optics. He looked just about as frightened and horrified as Starscream felt. The Seeker blinked and turned his gaze to Megatron. Demeaning though it was, perhaps he could beg his way out of this. A… session with Megatron would be preferable. 

  The Warlord, seemingly attuned to Starscream’s thoughts, chuckled darkly. “I’ve made up my mind. Snivel all you like, though.” He grinned lecherously. 

  Starscream dropped his optics to the Warlord’s interface panel and back to his faceplates.  _ Please? _ he mouthed. He hid a wince as the Prime’s EM jolted with realization. 

  Megatron’s grin widened. “Well, once a Towers whore, always a Towers whore,” he said, sounding pleased. 

_ No, I didn’t mean- Oh fragfragfrag, please don’t. _ Starscream shook his helm frantically, shame, terror, and desperation boiling from his pounding spark. He writhed as Megatron climbed onto the table behind him and slid his hands down his chassis. When they found his interface panel he jerked away, accidently bumping into Megatron’s. 

  He clicked disapprovingly. “Patience, pet. Take care of your guest first.” Megatron dug a claw into the top of Starscream’s panel and pried it off, tossing it away like garbage. He ghosted his pointed digits over the double valves, the mark of a Towers pleasure bot. Starscream turned his face into his shoulder, optics squeezed shut. 

  Megatron dragged his hands to Starscream’s hips and lifted him, positioning him over the Prime’s forcibly erect spike. “You might want to open your tank, little whore,” he whispered. “Primes are big mechs.” He shoved Starscream down. 

  Starscream blacked out for a sparkbeat. 

  When he came to, he was hunched, shivering, over the Prime’s massive chassis. It took him a second to register his location and position, and longer still to understand that the ripping  _ agony _ between his legs was coming from his valve. He jerked, instinctively trying to kick, only to find Megatron in the process of binding his legs in place. Instead of pushing him  _ away _ from the Prime, the movement drove the mech’s spike deeper into his valve. 

  The Prime turned distressed optics to Starscream. The Seeker responded with a silent snarl. It was Primes like  _ him _ that had turned warframes into slaves and used prettier models as berth toys!

  Megatron planted his hand between Starscream’s wings and shoved him forward. His thick digits circled Starscream’s posterior valve, then traced to the juncture of the two mechs. The Prime twitched at the touch, driving up into Starscream. The white and red Seeker rattled his wings. Which mech the threat was directed at was unclear, even to Starscream. Fear and pain clouded his mind and coiled around coherent thought, stifling reason and logic. He twisted around to bare his dentae at the Warlord, only to quail at the sight of his grey spike. 

_ No, no please Primus if you’re there  _ please _ no. _ Starscream shook his helm so hard his processor rattled. He yanked at his bound hands, uncaring as the cuffs bit into the thin plating of his wrists. Glass scraped against glass as his cockpit ground uncomfortably into the Prime’s windshield. 

  “It seems some extra  _ stimulus _ is required for the plan,” Megatron purred. A digit wandered over Starscream’s posterior valve. 

  The Seeker writhed, vents heaving. The claws on his pedes drove into the table and strained against the restraints on his legs. He tried to lift his chassis up, but Megatron seized both wings and held him still. The blunt spike grazed the dry entrance to his valve. Starscream craned his neck to see over his wing. His red optics were round with terror and confusion.  _ What are you doing; whywhyWHY? _

  Megatron’s predatory grin offered no answers, only the promise of lasting pain. 

  Starscream didn’t black out when the Warlord shoved in. Some old reflex had opened both entrances to his gestation tank, sparing him the pain and damage of having the platelets broken through. It didn’t diminish the agony of being stretched too wide, too fast, nor the scrapes and dents when Megatron set a brutal pace. 

  The white and red Seeker thrashed, thin flight armor warping under the Warlord’s heavy plating. His insides shook and throbbed with every forward slam. Within its chamber, his spark whirled fast and frantic. Under him, the Prime’s grill was hot enough to burn. But the red and blue mech stayed still, aside from involuntary little twitches. 

  Starscream had no chance to contemplate the oddity. Megatron grunted and grabbed his hips, plowing in so deep Starscream was sure his aft molded to the grey and purple mech’s pelvic span. Transfluid rushed into his tank, hot and thick. Starscream bared his dentae, slamming his forehelm into the Prime’s chest. He fought the sting of tears in his optics, turning the humiliation to vengeful anger. 

  “Well?” Megatron sounded breathless. 

  “Neither subject has climaxed,” droned Shockwave. 

  Starscream strained his neck to peer under his wing. Where the Pit was that glitched up excuse for a scientist? He spotted the purple mech, seated a few mechanometers away, reading from a datapad. 

  Megatron growled in frustration. “Where’s the remote?”

  Shockwave didn’t reply; he merely held a small object out to the Warlord. Spike shifting in Starscream’s valve, he snatched it. Starscream’s wings shivered at the movement. The pain was starting to fade as his frame adjusted. He could feel lubricant beginning to soften the walls of both valves, facilitating electrical connections between nodes. The shift sent sparks of pleasure racing up his spine. Judging by the Prime flinch, some of the nodes on his spike had hit home too. Starscream rumbled his engine, daring the Convoy to so much as  _ move. _ He’d show this Autobot what he did to the  _ last _ Prime who thought Seekers were nothing more than exotic berth warmers! 

  The Prime spasmed, something at the base of his spike vibrating. His cooling vents whined, stressed and struggling. Metal-scented air blasted from his vents, a few degrees shy of scalding Starscream. The Seeker hissed air noisily, trying to distance his anterior node from the vibrator. 

  Megatron wriggled his hips, bracing himself to start up again. Starscream dropped his helm back onto the Prime’s chassis. Megatron could keep going for hours if he wanted to. There had been times Starscream had passed out partway through, only to wake and find the Warlord still going strong. He knew he wasn’t getting out of this until Megatron was good and ready. He might as well conserve his strength. 

 

~~~

 

  Optimus Prime wasn’t sure where to look. He couldn’t bear to watch Megatron as the Decepticon Supreme Leader rammed into his SIC. He couldn’t really see Starscream, not with the way the small Seeker was flattened against his chassis. Shockwave was half hidden by Megatron’s bulk (and not a particularly encouraging sight either), which left staring at the ceiling or closing his optics. 

  Denial and retreat being the coward’s way out, Optimus chose to affix his gaze on the shadowy piping above him. He whined in his mind as lust ballooned between his thighs. It was uncontrollable; a deep coded response to the crackling nodes of his spike pairing with ones inside the valve. Starscream arched, fans buzzing as they blew hot air out. Optimus gasped, overloading into the Seeker’s tank. The white and red Flier jerked through his own climax, before going limp against the Convoy.

  Dentae clenched, Optimus dropped his helm back with a clunk. He honestly wasn’t sure how much longer they could last. Megatron and Shockwave had already forced them through three overloads -and Starscream, technically, had endured twice as many. The Seeker shuddered as Megatron pulled out, spike sliding past Optimus’s on the other side of a thin membrane. The grey and purple mech sat back with a weary sigh, waving Shockwave forward.  

  The one opticked mech stepped toward the two prisoner's helms and pulled Starscream’s back. He lifted a optic lid and shone a light in. Starscream’s wings fluttered weakly, but he didn’t resist, not even when Shockwave propped him up with his cannon arm and dug his fingers into the Seeker’s belly. 

  “Subject B’s tank can contain two more overloads.” Shockwave let Starscream slump back onto Optimus’s chassis. His hand jerked with the impulse to rest it on the exhausted Seeker’s back. 

  “Is he even online?” sneered Megatron. “He always nods off when I’m fragging him.” The Warlord took a gulp of energon and wiped his mouth. 

  Shockwave shrugged. “Technically speaking, neither subject has to be aware to copulate. However, one more overload should be sufficient for now.” The purple Decepticon pressed his hand to Starscream’s back and started rocking him back and forth. 

  Optimus bit his glossa and stared into the rafters. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Greeting, All! Have an interlude chapter; complete with panic attacks, helpful Optimus, stubborn Starscream, and mildly suicidal grumbling!

  Spots dancing before his optics, Optimus dug his fingers into the wall and concentrated on lowering himself to his knees without falling on his face. His legs shook and aftershocks wracked his frame. It didn’t help that his spike was still exposed and half pressurized, trapped thus by the ring at the base. 

  “Pleasant memory purge, Prime,” sneered Megatron. He tossed the limp frame of his SIC into the cell. Starscream landed in an uncoordinated heap and didn’t move aside from the rapid up-and-down of his sides. Energon and transfluid smeared his white thighs. 

  A pair of energon cubes hit the floor before Megatron, followed by Shockwave, exited the chamber, shutting off the lights as they went. The harsh glare dropped, momentarily blinding the Prime. Before he could fumble through his muddled processor for his headlight controls, his optics automatically adjusted to the emergency lighting. It was dim and foggy, illuminating the cell and the adjoining torture chamber with a soft haze like acid rain hitting pavement. 

  Optimus slumped against the wall, taking comfort in the cold metal. With care, he examined his spike and the ring at the base. It took his trembling digits a few tries, but he managed to find the latch and get it off so he could tuck his spike back into its sheath. Though he had no panel, the slight protection was a weight off his mind. 

  He judged the distance to Starscream. The Seeker was still where he had landed, wings to the Prime and vents rasping laboriously. Optimus groaned silently as he dragged his legs back under his chassis. The mute-box was securely attached to his neck, well beyond his skill to remove. 

  Slowly, Optimus crawled over to his cellmate and shook his overly warm shoulder.  _ Starscream? Are you online? _ He pushed his EM against the white and red mech’s. Ruby light reflected off the floor as Starscream’s optics flickered online. His bound arms twitched, claws glinting in the emergency lights. 

  Optimus tapped the stasis cuff and looked back at the Seeker’s face.  _ Do you want me to let you out? _ Starscream stared back for a second, then dropped his helm to the floor, apparently too weary to stay alert. His optics darkened to dim coals. 

  Taking it as permission, the Prime twisted a sliver of metal free from his pelvic array, grimacing at the twinge of pain, and set to work picking the lock. It took him a solid half hour of finagling, wing-wrestling, and swearing to deactivate the cuffs. Once offline, it was relatively easy to snap them in half. 

  EM questioning, he shook Starscream’s shoulder again. The Seeker had barely stirred the whole time. If not for his faint EM field and the movement of his vents, Optimus might’ve thought him dead. 

  The next thing he knew he was staring up at the ceiling with energon gushing from his olfactories and claw marks stinging in his arm. Optimus clamped a hand over his nasal ridge and lurched back into a sitting position, scanning the cell. Through watery optics he spotted Starscream, wings raised aggressively and hunkered in a corner. He blinked the washer fluid away, clearing his vision. 

  Starscream’s face was torn between snarling hatred, terrified defiance, and howling pain. His forearm wrapped around his lower abdomen -which was slightly distended by his swollen gestation tank. Starscream held his legs awkwardly, clearly in too much pain to press them as close together as he’d like. Energon drip-dropped onto the floor in irregular circles. 

 Optimus held up his hands soothingly, shifting to a kneeling position. Starscream’s sharp dentae caught the light as he snarled, engine growling. Wings flared out wide behind him, he looked twice his size. The Prime reached out with his EM, flooding it with  _ noharm/trust/protect _ . He wanted to see if he could stop the bleeding, or at least ease the Seeker discomfort. 

  Starscream bristled, EM flaring with  _ hate/threat/stayaway. _ Just as mute as Optimus, his rattling wings spoke volumes of what he’d do if the Convoy came within reach. 

  Optimus backed off. The Decepticon SIC was notorious for his temper. Though his glossa was curbed, his dentae and claws were no less sharp. 

  Optimus sighed as he sat back, hand over his still-bleeding nasal ridge -a testament to how dangerous Starscream could be, even now. Optimus waited for the bleeding to slow before crouch-walking to the energon cubes. As he lifted them, he felt laser like optics bore into his back. He rotated on his toes, legs complaining at the use, and met Starscream’s hateful optics. 

  “Tck!” Starscream snapped his glossa off the roof of his mouth and turned away. His optics flicked back to the energon cubes for the barest second. 

  Realizing what it must look like, Optimus edged as close as he dared to the white and red Flier and placed one of the cubes on the ground. He sat back on his heels, waiting for Starscream’s reaction. All he did was curl his lip contemptuously and continue glaring across the room. Optimus’s joints creaked as he leaned forward to push the glowing cube within easy reach. Then he sat back against the wall and cracked open his own cube. Reflexively, he tried to retract his battle mask, forgetting it had been torn from its moorings upon his capture, leaving his faceplates unusually exposed. Optimus cycled his vents and took a sip of energon. It was lowgrade and plain, but a relief to an empty tank and taxed systems. 

  Starscream’s wings fluttered. He had to be even hungrier than Optimus. He had suffered through the same abuse, and was still losing energon. Optimus was unsure if he should admire the Seeker’s stoicism or curse his stubbornness. If he didn’t replenish his energy levels, he wouldn’t last long in this Pithole. 

  Tank clenching, Optimus suddenly couldn’t bring himself to drink any more. There was no reason he could think of for Megatron and Shockwave to have done… that. Torture and interrogation, he had expected and steeled himself against. He had anticipated being used to force a surrender from the Autobots. But being tied down and assaulted by an equally unwilling Starscream… 

  The cube clinked as Optimus set it down. His armor felt heavy on his protoform, dragging his frame to the floor. Stiffly, he lowered himself to his side. The quiet oblivion of recharge was a lot more appealing than contemplating his current situation. And he had a feeling tomorrow would take all of his strength. 

 

~~~

 

  Starscream didn’t so much as budge, not even when the Prime pushed the energon cube towards him. Low energy warnings blinked on the side of his HUD, accompanied by a grinding in his fuel tank. He shoved the discomfort aside and glared out past the bars. Megatron had another think coming if he thought Starscream would take this lying down! ...pun not intended. Starscream growled, gripping his belly.  _ That _ was not an irritant he could will away. It would take his frame time to absorb the minerals and nanites in his gestation tank. Until then, it would press uncomfortably against his fuel tank and engine. It had been awhile -before the war- since his tank had been so over-full. Starscream snarled his engine, wings flaring, and whipped around to glare at the Prime. The Autobots dared call  _ them _ criminals when they were the ones enslaving and raping entire cities?

  Hot aches shot through his valves and up his back, turning the engine snarl into a high pitched whimper. Starscream braced a hand on the ground, digging the other into his abdomen as though to claw his own tank out. He waited it out, breathing hard, then looked up, ready to snarl at the Prime. 

  The Prime was asleep. Starscream stared. The fragging leader of the enemy army went to sleep in the same cell as his mortal enemy’s SIC right after being raped? Who the frag did that?! Starscream felt a scream rising up his throat. The mech didn’t even consider him a threat? Was he that pitiful; the former berth toy of the Senate, that his foe would just  _ go to sleep _ not four mechanometers away?

  The scream bubbled over, fury and despair that had to go somewhere or it would rend him helm to nosecone. No sound escaped Starscream’s vocals as he hurled himself at the bars. His claws scored the tough metal; his legs drove his chassis forward. He rammed his helm into the bars and railed against the claustrophobic confinement. Wings vibrating, searching for the open air, he flung himself over and over again at the bars. 

  He only stopped when his pede slipped and he landed on his cockpit. 

_   Scrap, that hurt. _ Starscream pounded his forehelm against the ground one last time, then lay still. Injuries, old and new, made themselves known.  _ Yeah, I fragging know my valves are ripped up. Thanks for telling me. _ Starscream let his freshly dented wings flop to the ground. His hands hurt where he had wrenched his claws and bared knuckles. There were probably cracks in his cockpit.  _ Perfect. Just perfect. Now everyone can see just how much of a mess you are. _ Starscream banged his helm again. 

  It was the knowledge that bleeding out was an even more pitiful end that finally forced Starscream to sit up and take stock of the damage. Congealed and drying energon flaked off his scrapped digits as he checked his canopy. It was indeed cracked, but the tempered glass was still in place. His wings were dinged up and oozing from a few spots -again, nothing his self repair couldn’t mend. If he refueled… Starscream narrowed his optics at the cube. At this point, he wasn’t putting anything beyond Megatron. Perhaps the energon was drugged, and that was why the Prime had passed out? A quick look confirmed the red and blue mech unmoved. He had only taken a few sips. If there was something in the energon, it must be potent to affect such a large mech so quickly. 

  Starscream grit his dentae as he leaned back against the wall. His hips ached as he parted his legs. Cramping his tank, Starscream curled over to get a look at his interface. 

  It wasn’t good. Without a medkit -or even just a cloth- there wasn’t a whole lot he could do. At least the energon was starting to clot. Maybe he wouldn’t bleed to death. 

_ More’s the pity, _ grumbled Starscream.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter... is a rough one. More mutual non-con and it escalates into darker territory. Proceed with caution.

  Helm pounding, Optimus Prime stirred into wakefulness. He groaned, rolling his face away from the harsh glare. What happened? Did Jazz slip something into his energon last night? Optimus moved to bring his hand to his aching helm, only to find it pinned. 

_ Jazz, not funny. Let me up, _ he muttered. His audials must be glitching because he couldn’t hear his own voice. He  _ could _ hear a familiar but muffled voice cursing up a storm and chaotic crashing of metal bodies. A fight? Prime snapped open his optics. That was right; he’d been fighting! He squinted into the stark white light glaring down at him. That wasn’t Cybertron’s sun. 

  “Hold him still! Why isn’t he sedated?” Something hit Optimus’s legs and was held there, writhing. Optimus jerked, vision slow to catch up with the movement of his helm. A wave of nausea washed over him, not exclusively from the his glitching optics. The first thing he saw was Megatron pinning Starscream to the table, struggling to cuff the petite Seeker. The second thing was his own chest plates -open wide to the ceiling. 

  Cold washed over him.  _ Ohhh no. No. Nope. _ Helm suddenly clearing, Optimus recalled the previous day. The Decepticons had staged an attack on the outskirts of Iacon. The Autobots had rolled out to repel the invasion, only to be ambushed. In the confusion, Starscream was able to surprise him with a null-ray. His large frame and heavy armor limited its effects, but he was down an arm while facing Megatron. The Warlord clobbered him over the helm, slung him over a shoulder, and sounded the retreat. The Autobots, lacking flight-frames, could only watch as the grey and purple mech took off with their leader. 

  Optimus had fought back the whole way. He only stopped after he was strapped to the torture table with some slaggin’  _ strong _ stasis cuffs. Now, once more tied down, he found he had no recollection of the move from the cell to here.

  “Glitched-up  _ reject!” _ Megatron grabbed Starscream by the back of the helm and pounded it against the table. Starscream kicked out, struggling to pull his wrists free of the Warlord’s one handed hold. Megatron growled and slammed his helm down again. Optimus flinched when something audibly  _ cracked. _ The Seeker went limp; stunned or unconscious, Optimus couldn’t tell. Transfixed, he watched Megatron cuff Starscream and flip him over. A wingtip caught on the Prime’s grill, bending both. Starscream’s wing twitched as his optics flickered back online. 

  Megatron seized him by the collar. “Stay still and maybe I’ll be  _ merciful,” _ he snarled. 

  Starscream spat a mix of oral fluid and energon into Megatron’s face. 

  Megatron reared back in surprise. “You fragging asked for it!” he roared. He drove his fists into Starscream’s canopy and ripped out his cockpit. The glass shattered against the wall, narrowly missing Shockwave. Before Optimus could process it, Megatron was back, clawing out great fistfulls of Starscream’s armor and inner plating. The Seeker’s spine arched, wings shaking and mouth open in a silent wail. Megatron grabbed one last panel and tore it out, energon flying as he flung it away. 

  “So you do have a spark,” sneered Megatron, leaning in to examine it. Brilliant white light glowed off his grey faceplates. 

  Starscream rolled his helm to the side, staring at Optimus out of cracked and despairing optics. The side of his helmet was badly dented and one red orb glitched between on and off. Optimus blinked back. What else was there to do? He could guess what happened next, though he scarcely dared contemplate it. 

  Megatron hauled Starscream upright and  _ compelled _ him to press his valves to Optimus’s spike housing. Dried energon cracked off, releasing fresh and warm liquid. Starscream hissed sharply, quivering wings tucked low to his back. The friction and warmth sent a primordial bolt of lust through Optimus’s lines. He grit his dentae and clenched his fists. Starscream gasped in pained surprise as Megatron pushed him harder against Optimus. He turned, plating bristling, and  _ click-click-clicked _ with his glossa. 

  “Shut the frag up.” Megatron grabbed Starscream by the mandible and shoved him backwards. His helm hit Optimus’s chassis with a  _ clang. _ Megatron grabbed him again and yanked his upper body back, leaning around to snarl at the Prime. “You’re going to interface with this Seeker whore” -he slapped Starscream on the aft- “or I will. And either way, you’re bonding with him.” 

  Optimus’s chest plates spasmed, jamming against some physical obstruction. He gawked at Megatron. He had suspected this was some form of a twisted interrogation coupled with a new cruelty to Starscream (who was known to be the Warlord’s favorite punching bag). Perhaps by forcing a bond he hoped to gain access to the Autobot secrets within the Prime’s processor? But… a hacker like Shockwave could do much the same. And Starscream was obviously not on board with this plan. 

_ Perhaps Megatron has gone mad. _ The prospect of being at the mercy of a madmech sent chills racing through his wiring. A bond was not something to be undertaken lightly.  Optimus switched his optics to the Seeker. Starscream looked half offline already, frame limp and energon dribbling down his throat from his mouth. 

  “Make up your mind,” Megatron growled. His hand dropped behind Starscream, making him twitch and sit up straight. His good optic flared to life, furious and terrified. When Megatron nudged him down, he resisted, cables in his abdomen shaking with the strain. 

  Optimus doubted Starscream would survive another assault by Megatron. The Air Commander’s chest was torn open, energon flowing steadily from severed lines. Optimus could  _ see _ the main line that swirled around the spark chamber. He squeezed his optics shut for a moment, then opened them to stare into the rafters. This time, he didn’t deny the notification that his spike wanted to pressurize. It did so, knocking against the juncture of Starscream’s hip and thigh, drawing a wince from them both. 

  Starscream turned wide red optics to the Prime. His breathing accelerated as Megatron maneuvered him into position. 

_ I’m sorry, _ Optimus mouthed. He jerked when Starscream was pushed onto him. A seal of congealed energon broke and flooded out, running over his aft. Starscream hissed in a breath, spine curling and optics shuttered tight. Optimus dug his fingers into his palms, reminding himself his deep coded instincts didn’t care that his conscious mind was reeling with dread. This urge to thrust up into the warm valve was nothing he could help. His toeplates curled, cooling fans whirling online. 

  Megatron smirked in satisfaction. He planted a hand between Starscream’s wings and slowly, inexorably, pushed his spark towards Optimus’s. Starscream shook his helm, turning to attempt one last appeal. 

  Optimus’s chest plates tried to close again. His optics fixed on the gleaming white spark inside the Seeker’s mangled canopy. His own blue spark reflected off the energon streaked metal, growing brighter with every second. Something inside Starscream’s chassis screeched, the wail of metal on metal as he too struggled to shield himself. Energon from his mouth and canopy dripped onto Optimus. He snared Starscream’s EM and tried to settle the desperate flailing. The first tendrils of their sparks’ coronas met; the first true taste of the other. 

  Panic. Overwhelming, sense-stealing, panic. Wrath and hatred and determination hot enough to out-burn a star. The intensity didn’t just sweep him off his pedes; it blew away the very ground on which he stood. It was like flying pell-mell through a city while the buildings crumbled and shattered around him. Dodging, careening, swooping, swirling. First one path opened then it closed and led to three others. Everything was ablaze, scorching and brilliant.

  It was too much. Optimus tried to pull back, to find his own thoughts and feelings in the wild malstrom. He was drowning, losing all individuality within the intensity that was this other being. Optimus groped blindly for something to anchor himself before he couldn’t remember why he wanted to be himself and not this firestorm. 

  Rich blue, like the sky at sundown, burst into the burning cityscape. It felt like it hit Optimus and knocked the air out of his vents. His metaphorical pedes scraped the equally metaphorical ground. He coughed in a vent, suddenly aware of the pain in his fingers from gripping the table too hard. It was distant and faint compared to the fell fury raging about him. 

  This time, he felt the Matrix as it released a soothing pulse. Optimus let it wash over him and strengthen the divide between  _ him _ and  _ Starscream. _ The artifact had saved him from being overwhelmed, he realized. Always a risk in hasty merges, the weaker of the two personalities faced loss of self. 

  Another wave of raw, blinding  _ panic _ screamed over him, tearing at the fragile walls keeping Optimus’s consciousness separate from Starscream’s. He winced, hunching down, and reached out with a bright blue tendril of thought. He had to find Starscream and calm him before something worse happened. If he didn’t settle, Optimus faced madness and Starscream risked being bonded to madness. 

  Starscream’s consciousness was as wily as a greased turbofox. He kicked and struggled, damaged chest plates dripping energon into Optimus’s. Crimson lightning flashed across the cityscape, illuminating the unformed colour patches painted in imitation of towers. 

  An overload took them both by surprise. A shriek, beyond Optimus’s range of hearing, wracked the phantom city like a thundershock. All colour drained, turning deathly grey and crumbling to rusty flakes. Starscream’s frame shivered and went slack, optics flickering online. The cracked glass rings rotated, trying to pull the world back into focus. 

  Unable to move his frame, Optimus reached out instead with his mind, offering the same comfort an embrace could. Starscream was off balance, his unseeing terror and rage momentarily bated. Optimus had a chance to calm him now, and  _ keep _ him calm. The longer they stayed like this -spark to spark, bathing in each others essences- the more likely they were to forge a bond. Dread coursed through him at the thought. Starscream, attuned to his emotions, reciprocated. 

_ “Don’t want,” _ he whispered. He sounded young, very young. His breath was warm on Optimus’s collar. Damaged optics rose to the Prime’s face. 

_ “I know.” _ Optimus concentrated on soothing the Seeker, distracting himself from the charge swelling in his frame and the shifting inside his chassis. Starscream dropped his helm heavily, spark wailing with grief as its frequency slowly shifted to sync with the blue one pressed close to it. His wings shivered, twitching away from a looming presence. 

  Megatron prodded Starscream in the sensitive vent slots. Optimus had to break off his glare when the sensation echoed in his own side. Pit; that wasn’t good. Shared sensory input was a sign of an impending bond, a sign the two sparks were close to reaching a common frequency. 

  Shockwave confirmed his suspicions. “Subjects’ sparks are nearing synchronization,” he intoned.

  Megatron turned to the one opticked scientist. “Already? I was expecting this to take all day.”

  “They must have had close frequencies to begin with.”

  “Hmph. No wonder you’re such a traitor.” Megatron pinched Starscream’s wingtip. The Seeker flinched, hate and betrayal rushing from his spark to Optimus’s. Megatron smirked, seemingly amused by his captives’ united anger. “Can we leave them? I tire of watching the Prime spark with the Seeker pleasure bot.”

  Shockwave checked his readings. “Their chest plates are fusing for the bonding. We can put them back in the cell.”

  “Good.” The Warlord deactivated the cuffs holding Optimus down. 

  Instantly, Optimus wrapped one arm around Starscream’s wings and another under his legs. Supporting the injured Flier, he carefully slipped off the berth. He bared his dentae in a very Starscream-esque threat as he backed up to the relative safety of the cell. Megatron followed, smug smirk securely in place on his faceplates, and locked the two in. Optimus remained standing, glowering, back plates raised and trembling, until Megatron and Shockwave left. The purple scientist shoved two energon cubes into the cell on his way out. The lights dropped again, casting them in a sickly yellow glow. 

  With difficulty, Optimus knelt. His was stiff and sore and his helmache was threatening to return. Forcing his pains aside, he encouraged Starscream to stretch out his legs behind Optimus. It wasn’t just their chest plates that had fused; Starscream’s valve was squeezed tight around his knotted spike, holding them close. At this point, it would take a medic to separate them safely. 

  Optimus wrapped a hand around the back of Starscream’s helm and tucked his face into the gap of his windshield and shoulder.  _ “Give me a minute,” _ he requested, reaching for Starscream’s bound hands. The white and red mech twitched his wings, lifting them out of the way. His response was incoherent with exhaustion. Optimus ran a hand soothingly over his wing, worrying when the Seeker barely reacted. He could feel the barest ghost of wings flowing off his own back, sleek and sensitive. That Starscream wasn’t protesting the touch was cause for concern. Twisting another sliver of metal off his damaged pelvic array, Optimus set to work on the cuffs. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, long time no see! Here's a panic attack and sorta flashback. Enjoy~

“Blah” = Spoken dialogue

::Blah:: = Comm lines

_ “Blah” _ = Telepathy

_ Blah _ = Private thoughts

~Blah~ = Bonded talk

//Blah// = Sign Language

 

  All characters belong to their original creators. 

 

CHAPTER FOUR

 

  Starscream drifted in and out of consciousness. Sometimes he was dimly aware of large gentle hands moving his beaten frame and pressing injuries. Sometimes he was tangled in heavy smothering fabric while enormous mechs took turns with his body. Sometimes he was paralyzed with terror. Other times he clawed and fought for all he was worth. 

  When he woke for real, it took many long minutes to orient himself. He became aware of his frame first. Strangely numb, his arms hung slack at his sides. His legs were locked at the knees and turned inwards. A large, solid bulk propped him up, rumbling slightly against his chest plates. His chest plates. They felt wrong. Starscream rustled his wings and tried to lift his helm. Optics glitched and fed back a staticy and warped view. 

  ~Shh, easy.~ The voice was deep. It vibrated in his spark crystal and lightened the crushing pressure on his wings. 

  ~TC?~ mumbled Starscream. He tried to move his limp arms, to push himself away from the warm frame. ~Wha’ happened?~

  ~Starscream, you need to stay calm. I am not your wingmate.~ A big hand ran slowly over the leading edge of his wing. The emotions linked to the voice were conflicted: one moment ernest and peaceful, the next frightened and determined. 

  ~Wha’ iz it?~ Starscream tried to engage his vocalizer and pull up his blockers. He must have been hurt  _ bad _ if his trinemates could get to his mind. One optic onlined and stayed online. The image was grainy and dull, but he could identify the audial and neck of the mech holding him. He squinted. Thundercracker didn’t have antenna. 

  ~Starscream, what do you remember?~

  ~...’sa fight?~ Starscream let his helm loll backwards. Something tugged inside his chassis. ~Wus it Meg’tron?~ 

  A hand cupped his face and helm, pulling it forward. Starscream closed his optics, nuzzling into the palm. Fingers touched his face and pried open his bad optic. 

  ~Ow, TC…~ Starscream tried to pull away. The inside of his chassis pulled again. What was with that? Was he hooked up to life support? Then why was he sitting up? 

  Starscream’s less damaged optic was opened. He tried to moan at the bright blue light burning his photoreceptors. It must have been Megatron. He always went for the vocalizer. His optic was released and a hand guided his face into the crook of neck and shoulder. 

  ~No…~ Starscream dragged his helm up and made his good optic open. Twin points of blue light bored into his processor. ~ Wha’s going on?~ His spark lurched in its casing. There was something wrong here. He knew it. His processor was just too muddled up to figure it out. Slag Megatron for always hitting him! He knew it was only a matter of time before he started experiencing permanent cognitive difficulties! 

  ~I’m not your wingmate.~ The blue lights vanished and reappeared. A blink, Starscream realized. The lights were optics. Did he know anyone with blue optics? He stirred, dragging an arm up and pushing against the bigger mech’s chassis. ~Y’not TC,~ he protested. Primus, why was his arm so weak? And why did it feel like he was physically attached to this mech? 

  ~Starscream, stay still!~ exclaimed the voice. It sounded alarmed. The mech’s mouth didn’t move. Starscream reeled backward, thrusters scraping the ground in search of traction. 

  ~What’s going on?!~ he yelped. He could hear the sound of two frames moving -his and the strange mech’s- but not a single voice. Starscream turned his cracked optics down, dread rising from his spark. 

  Plating had shifted to interlock, fusing their torsos together. Starscream could see that most of his armor had been torn out. He was oozing energon slowly, but the bigger mech had directed some of his own lines into his frame. Which explained why he wasn’t in stasis lock from energon loss. He was rent open like some mechanimal on a dissection tray. 

  That wasn’t the worst part. 

  Through the chinks in the interlaced armor, he could see the luminescent flickers of his own lifeforce. It was accompanied by bright blue, glowing and reflecting in jagged shrapnels across scratched plating. Above and behind the blue spark; a golden network of microchips, wires, and tubing wove together into a processor-like mass. It was shifted up, partially hidden behind the other mech’s collar fairing, but Starscream knew what it was. 

  The Matrix. Which mean the spark his was merged with -was bonding with!- belonged to… to a Prime. 

 

  Optimus felt it the second Starscream’s concussed processor made the connection. One moment the emotions were hazy and drifting; the next they were sharp and utterly focused. It felt like a crack of lightning or a punch to the fuel tank. The Seeker’s frame followed a sparkbeat later, twisting and writhing and hurling raw  _ fury _ through the newly formed bond. 

  ~WaitWAIT!~ Optimus caught one clawed hand, wincing as the other dug into his side. Starscream snarled and snapped his dentae at the Prime’s neck. His wings bristled up and back as he kicked with powerful legs. No coherent thought could make it through the wrath and panic overwhelming him. Starscream bucked, claws ripping free of Optimus’s side to gouge at the very plating surrounding their sparks. 

  Optimus moved quickly, catching the blue wrist and crooking his legs up against Starscream’s back to keep him still. ~Calm down; please calm down Starscream. You’re going to hurt yourself.~ Something had started bleeding again, tainting the air with the acidic smell of energon. 

  The hatred boiling off the Seeker’s spark threw Optimus off so much he almost didn’t dodge the bite to his throat. Optimus looked down into the fiery red optics. This wasn’t the hatred of one faction to the other. It was personal and deep and very, very raw. But Optimus knew he had never met this mech outside of battle. 

  ~I don’t want to hurt you,~ Optimus reassured. 

  Starscream bared his dentae. ~That’s  _ rich _ coming from the mech up to his audials in my  _ valve!~ _ He kicked again, unable to get any power behind the motion. 

  Optimus frowned, little flames of anger licking at the edges of his mind. ~This was not my choice.~

  Manically, Starscream threw back his helm, frame shaking. It took Optimus a second to realize the Flier was _laughing._ As suddenly as it started, he stopped. Burning red optics snapped forward to fix on the Prime’s blues. ~Yes, blame the Warframe. It’s always their fault. Or better yet, blame the Seeker! _Oh I’m so sorry officer,~_ mocked Starscream. _~I was just minding my own business here when this flying monstrosity came flouncing by. I just_ had _to drag it into the nearest alley and have my way with it, don’t you see? But it’s okay_ -because _-ah_ _haha-_ because he’s a Warframe! _~_ Silent laughter arched Starscream’s neck again. Mad hysteria swamped his mind and spark, tumbling higher and higher. 

  ~Starscream. Starscream!~ Optimus grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him as roughly as he dared. Frantic little pleas, half word half emotion, tumbled from the Convoy’s spark to the Seeker’s. It felt like drowning in heavy oil, if oil boiled insanity instead of heat. His own spark pounded desperately after Starscream’s lightning fast pulses. It made the very energon in his lines burn and the raw  _ elation/delirium/madness _ mob his thoughts and steal away all hope for calm.

  Optimus forced himself to suck in air and vent it through the juncture of their frames. ~Stop this! You must stop this!~ he cried. If he didn’t Optimus thought he might very well implode.

  Starscream laughed all the harder. 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Greetings, All! I know I've been quiet lately, but college is starting soon and I've been incredibly busy. I ate through most of my buffers, too. :[   
> Anyway, this chapter's got flashback stuff in it and the accompanying nastiness. Also, I'm worried the 'mind palace' stuff was confusing, so ask if you need something clarified. Hopefully /I'll/ be able to figure out what was going on in my head at the time and explain.

CHAPTER FIVE

 

  Starscream laughed, euphoria lightening his spark. The Prime’s distressed calls were sweet music in his audials. Starscream didn’t even  _ try _ to pull free of the iron grip.  _ He _ was the one in control here! Not the Prime! It felt… wonderful liberating powerful intoxicating tainted sickening repulsive -

  The next thing Starscream knew he was purging against the Prime’s massive chassis. Except it was just dry heaves because he hadn’t eaten anything in almost a day. His tank and intake convulsed, oral fluid dribbling down his chin. 

  ~Shh, shh. It’s okay. Calm down.~ The Prime gently settled a hand on Starscream’s helm and wing joint, trying to steady his trembling frame. He rumbled his engine at a low pitch, vibrations carrying through both of them. 

  Starscream latched his newly released claws into the Prime’s lower back and clung to him like a sparkling. ~It’s not okay,~ he gasped. ~I -I can’t breath.~ His plating flared, energon rushing to his wings in an effort to dispel the heat swelling under his armor. The walls were pressing close, blurring into stenciled optics that watched and judged. Starscream tucked his shaking wings to his back. The walls were reaching for them, groping at them with big dirty grasping hands. 

  ~No no no.~ The white and red mech shook his helm, burying his face in the offered shoulder. ~Don’t touch me; let me go, let me go!~ Starscream tried to keen, mandible opening wide against strong neck cables. Claws sinking deeper, he pulled himself as close to the other mech as possible. ~Make it stop. I promise, I’ll do whatever you want. Anything!  _ Please. _ Just stop stop stop…~ 

 

  Optimus could only watch as the Decepticon SIC came unraveled in front of him. On the battlefield, the mech was a formidable opponent. Optimus himself had gone toe plate to toe plate with him more than once, and often won by only a narrow margin. He was known to be a scientist and inventor of some skill, not to mention Commander of the Aerial Corps  _ and _ Second in Command of an entire army. The Seeker was fast in the air and nearly as fast in the mind. He was cunning, tough, and sharp witted. 

  He was also, as Optimus was discovering, a direct victim of the Senate and Primacy’s corruption.

  Optimus had become Prime after the start of the war; he had never lived in the Prime’s place nor sat in the Senate’s council rooms. They were one of the first places struck by the Decepticon movement. All he knew was what he had heard, either in rumor on the docks or from his advisors. From what he  _ did _ know, it was no surprise Starscream carried a grudge against Autobots. 

  ~...don’t take it...~ Starscream mumbled, trapped in some nightmare land between sleeping and waking into which no one could follow. 

  Except Optimus could. 

  He nibbled at his lip for a second, gathering his strength. The firestorm of Starscream’s mind had simmered down to frothing clouds and random bursts of sheet lightning. Still, the memory of the Seeker’s overwhelming force of personality was enough to make Optimus wary. Before the Matrix, he would not have been surprised Starscream had the stronger mind. After it… well, the impromptu upgrade had affected more than just his frame. 

  When Optimus opened the floodgate and stepped through, the first thing he became aware of was the aura. Like an EM yet not. It skittered on the edges of Optimus’s perception and tinted the atmosphere grey. The second thing was the smell. It was heavy and rich with powdered minerals, polish, and wax. Thick oils saturated the heavy air. Optimus offlined his optics, immersing himself fully in the vision. Immediately, he realized it wasn’t a vision. It was a memory. And not a good one. 

  There was an opulent berth and two good sized mechs on it. A fine nanoweave blanket partially covered them, but the motions and sounds were more than enough hint at what they were doing. Optimus froze, half embarrassed, half confused/sick. He could guess why this was in Starscream’s memory banks.

  “Get the scrap out of here!” Something hit his leg hard enough to dent. 

  Optimus took a step back, optics dropping to a tiny Seeker. He was no taller than Optimus’s knee and so slim the Prime could easily have wrapped one hand around both his arms and waist simultaneously. White wings bristled off his back and fury twisted his dark face plates into an uncomfortably familiar snarl. 

  “What make you think you have any right to come barging in here?! Any! Right! At All?!” The Seekerling punctuated each word with another punch, driving the Prime back. The tingling aura sharpened out of shame and into indignity.

  “Starscream?” Optimus glanced at the berth again. It was growing hazy, like mist was slowly consuming it the further away they moved. From this angle he could make out a third shape, smaller than the two Senators(?) but nowhere  _ near _ as small as the youngling whaling on his kneecap. 

  “Well who  _ else _ would it be?” The white Seekerling spread his hand in a mockery of a bow. Twisted contempt turned the tone harsh and cutting.

  “But…” Optimus looked at the nearly-gone memory playback. The Seeker there looked almost exactly like the Starscream he knew. “You’re tiny,” he said weakly. 

  Starscream crossed his arms, faceplates pinched. “Warframes are sparked into adult bodies, idiot. Don’t pretend you don’t know.” His voice was higher and smoother than later in life, but still carried the sneering, smarter-than-you quality. 

  “You’re a youngling.” Optimus couldn’t decide if Starscream as a child was adorable or disturbing.

  “Obviously.” Starscream turned on a heel and strode away, mist from this strange limbo place rising up to envelop his frame. “Now get out. You’ve already taken my body and spark. Or isn’t that enough?” Red optics flashed through the mist as he glanced over his shoulder. 

  “What? No!” Optimus moved after Starscream. “ _ Neither _ of us wanted to bond. Megatron forced us.”

  Bitter laughter drifted back to the Prime’s audials. “Of course  _ Prime. _ You’ve  _ never _ wondered what you were missing out on, never living in that oversized Pithole they called a palace. You’ve  _ never _ looked at a Seeker and wanted to  _ take _ him.” The unformed haze morphed into a battlefield. Optimus stumbled over the rubble, searching for Starscream’s distinct white wings. He found them -but they were a few sizes bigger than he was expecting. 

  The Seeker, full grown now, vaulted over a fire-scorched arch and fired two shots back the way he came. The third shot made the null-ray spit sparks and Starscream spit curses. He dropped to the ground, wings to the arch, and started fiddling with it. 

  Optimus nearly jumped out of his plating when a red and blue mech stalked  _ right through _ his arm. “That’s me!” he exclaimed, staring. Past-Optimus had spotted past-Starscream struggling with his null-ray and was moving in to attack. Optimus tore his optics away, scanning the battlefield for  _ another _ pair of wings. “Starscream!” He hustled toward the tri-coloured Seeker where he perched upon a twisted support beam. “What are you trying to prove?” He stopped under the mech, noticing he looked a little bigger now. Perhaps in his first mechling frame. 

  “Watch,” said Starscream tonelessly. 

  Optimus bit back his questions and looked back at their past selves. He watched himself hesitate with his pistol, straining to get a look at what Starscream was handling. The second’s pause was all it took for Starscream to notice he had company and spring to his pedes. His other null-ray was charged and firing before the Prime could blink. 

  Optimus winced in sympathy when his past self took a shot right in the thigh. “I remember this. It was right at the start of the war. You weren’t SIC yet.”

  “And yet the Prime himself sought me out.” Lights from weapons fire danced across Starscream’s pale plating. The memory’s tenor dulled along with Starscream’s sudden apathy. 

  “I just happened to stumble across you.” Optimus frowned, tearing his optics from the fight. 

  “And then didn’t shoot me when you had the chance.” Starscream’s optics narrowed calculatingly as the past-Prime blocked a punch and took a kick to the fuel tank. “You should have blocked that,” he said. 

  “I was distracted,” explained Optimus. 

  “Ha! I knew it!” Starscream’s wings flared, the aura of the memory turning victorious. 

  “What do you- No!” Optimus took a step back, appalled. “I meant your punch pulled my guard away. I wasn’t expecting a kick!”

  Starscream scoffed. 

  “I live with  _ Wheeljack _ . I know better than to shoot at a scientist when he’s doing something.” Optimus stared at Starscream. “Is that what you’re basing this on?”

  “It was hardly the last time we fought.  _ You _ always seemed to seek me out.” Starscream lost interest in the fight, optics turning to the horizon. The memory, without its owner’s attention, blurred into vague shapes that wobbled and wavered on the edge of reality. 

  Optimus blinked in confusion. “Because you’re a skilled fighter. And the Air Commander.”  _ He’s been thinking  _ that _ all this time? _

  Starscream flicked his wings dismissively. “If you wanted to break the chain of command, why am I not dead?”

  “You are a remarkably hard to kill mech,” dead-panned Optimus before he could fully think through his response. 

  The Seeker tossed his helm back with a snort of laughter. It was bitter, yes; but not the deranged cackling from earlier. “Can’t even kill one Seeker? You’re almost as pitiful as your predecessor.” Starscream twitched, aura jolting through fearful emotions too fast for Optimus to catch. He  _ did _ feel the rough rub of phantom hands on his armor, real enough to make him shiver. 

  “Out.” Starscream twisted his young face into a closed-off wall of hard fury. 

  “Starsc-”

  “I SAID OUT!” Starscream whipped around and flung himself at the Prime. 

  Optimus caught him easily; he was much, much bigger than this half grown version of Starscream and had the strength of years of battle behind his limbs. Starscream however, was like quicksilver. He twisted into a weak point of Optimus’s hold on his shoulders and drove a thruster into his pede. 

  Pain made Optimus bite back a curse and hop away. He had no time to recover. Starscream attacked again, claws flashing into unprotected joints to tear at muscle cables. Thrusters fired, launching the mechling high enough to kick Optimus in the windshield. Though the damage was mostly cosmetic, it made Optimus double over and grab at his chassis. Starscream landed on one pede and kicked the Prime right in the faceplates. 

  Optimus managed to seize the pede and yank it away before Starscream could activate the thruster. The reprieve was short lived, for Starscream jumped, turning cockpit up and chambered his other leg for a kick. This time the fiery turbine was already bellowing heat and flame. 

  Reflex saved Optimus a melted face. He charged Starscream while he was still in the air. The impact knocked the white mechling to the ground and Optimus was quick to pin him there. 

  Starscream screeched his wrath to the indistinct fog of unformed thought. Curses untempered by language rang through the air. He writhed, kicking and clawing at anything and everything he could reach. 

  Optimus used his superior weight to hold Starscream down until he wore himself out. Glass from his windshield scattered over the Seeker’s wings, knocked loose by the Flier’s struggles. The Convoy kept on hand on Starscream’s thrusters and the other over the back of his helm. One knee dug into his back and the other braced himself against the Seeker’s desperate bucking. 

  Gradually, Starscream’s struggles slowed, then stopped. His vents hitched, shaking his whole frame. Optimus was slow to release him, wary of another ambush. He didn’t think he was going to; he could teek the utter despair in Starscream’s aura. Spark to spark as they were, secrets were a thing of the past. 

  Exventing heavily, Optimus sat back. Starscream remained motionless aside from little tremors running across his frame and up his wings. Optimus guessed this thin adolescent was a representation of Starscream’s true age had he not been placed in an adult frame. It made him wonder how many others of the Decepticons were technically mechlings. The thought was a disturbing one. Optimus made a mental note to ask Prowl about it -if he ever saw the Praxian again. Dark emotions, like fear but too weary, washed over him. Was he -were  _ they- _ ever going to get out of here?

  “Tck-tck-tck-tck…” Starscream clicked nervously as he pushed his cockpit off the ground. He swiped an arm across his optics, too late to hide the tear stains. He shook again as he tried to pull his legs under himself, plainly intending to put some distance between them.

  “Wait-!” Optimus reached a hand out toward him. Mental projection though this was, Starscream looked frail and scuffed. He didn’t want the mechling to injure himself. 

  “No- _ oh!” _ yelped Starscream. He dropped to the ground, arms over his helm, and just  _ froze _ there. 

  Optimus halted too.  _ He’s expecting me to hurt him, _ he realized sadly. “Starscream. Will you please sit up? I mean you no harm.” The red and blue mech didn’t touch the scrawny Seeker. He fumbled for the edges of the aura filling this mind palace and offered gentle honesty to the incoherent malstrom. “I know you can hear me. Please look at me or at least sit up.”

  “Why should I?” Starscream’s voice cracked. “So you can play the  _ merciful _ master to his obedient toy?” He cringed, fingers tightening on his dark helm. 

  Optimus mulled over Starscream’s words. The Decepticon had a lifetime of experience telling him not to trust anyone with the Autobot brand. His reasons were legitimate -under the old regime. The new Prime was not looking to restore the apathetic Council. Far away times suddenly danced across Optimus’s inner optic. A vision of peace in his time and this sharp-witted Seeker leading the charge to rebuild their world stronger than before. It felt so  _ real _ the red and blue mech pitched forward, gasping in a vent. He blinked, finding himself still in Starscream’s mind palace with the mechling Seeker in a huddle a few mechanometers away. Optimus had to find some way to cut through those hard-learnt lessons and the accompanying layers of hate to reach his new mate. 

  “I’m not going to hurt you.” He edged closer and slid a hand around Starscream’s side. His wings twitched spastically, the lower edge knocking against the Prime’s blue wrist. Optimus didn’t back off; instead he wrapped his other arm around the Seeker’s abdomen and slowly lifted him off the ground and into his lap. “I won’t hurt you. I know you don’t believe me, but I want to show you something that might change your mind.” He sensed the tiniest fluctuation in the unformed mist, the tiniest shift in the aura. Starscream was interested. 

  Optimus focused, optics closing, and sought out the tendril of thought that led back to his frame, his consciousness. He was a guest in Starscream’s processor, a ship stranded in a sea of magma. The anchor chain keeping him from drifting away was a thin and delicate one, little more than a narrow thread of something  _ foreign _ . It was there, though, and he followed it back, taking with him a traveling companion. 

  The Prime didn’t have a detailed inner sanctum he could retreat to. In returning his awareness to his processor he also became dimly aware of the condition of his physical body. It was stiff and achy, hunched in an uncomfortable arch over Starscream. He forced his backstruts to straighten, easing up on the weight on the Seeker. The lines and plating attaching them pulled against the motion. 

  Starscream rustled his true frame’s wings, cracked optics flickering half online. Clawed digits twitched on the Convoy’s sides. ~Well, Prime?~ he asked, mind-voice scratchy. ~I hope you have a  _ point _ in dragging me back to this Pithole.~ Red optics dropped offline and his forehelm  _ clunked _ against the bigger mech’s shoulder. Back in his frame, with a thousand and one hurts pressing down, it was harder to maintain the aggressive front. 

  Most of Optimus’s firewalls were non-functional, but the few remaining took only seconds to take down. Careful not to push anything to the forefront, he ‘stepped’ back from his own mind, leaving files and databanks unguarded. Tactical information on his faction remained shielded -Prowl would have his plating if he let the enemy SIC access that, no matter how strange the situation.

  ~Look at what you will,~ said Optimus. He sensed Starscream’s processor kick into high gear at the realization the Prime had dropped all mental defenses. ~I only ask that you do no permanent da-ah-hmm!” He had to bite down on a curse (again) as Starscream went from wary and cautious/curious, to rifling through his memory storage with feverish ferocity. Optimus’s processor reflected his line of thought: orderly and calm. His memories were stored in chronological order and tagged based on location, people, and level of security. He thought linearly; leaps of intuition were rare, and when they occurred, were thoroughly examined before implication. 

  The glimpses Optimus gained of Starscream’s thought process revealed a land utterly alien to anything he had seen before. 

_ Chaos given form and pattern, _ he thought, watching in amazement as old memory files were yanked from storage and cast aside almost too fast for him to comprehend. A series of images of the dockyards flashed by, accompanied by a snippet of voice. Before the faces could take form they were gone, replaced with the confused jumble that was the day the Matrix decided to take up residence in his chest. Starscream flinched back at first, then tore through them with double the intensity. The weeks and months of taking command and reforming the Autobot cause flashed by in the span of three sparkpulses. The hardest few months of Optimus’s life were examined, dissected, and dismissed in less time than it took to turn his helm. The corruption had run deep, but the Decepticon’s early targeting of the Council and their cohorts had cut the source. With a new Prime, the peace negotiations should have been a success. 

  Starscream stopped at the negotiations long enough for Optimus to properly identify the mechs and what was going on. Through his own optics, he watched the grey and purple supreme leader of the Decepticons slam his fist into (and through!) the table. His deep voice was thin and distant as he vowed vengeance and death upon every mech who bore the Autobot crest. 

  Some sort of wild sorrow or perhaps exhaustion whirled through Starscream. ~He should’ve taken the deliberations seriously. Could’a stopped all this.~Starscream’s thoughts were muddled, sometimes overlaying Optimus’s, sometimes fading to a background buzz. It took Optimus a moment to realize their sparks with withdrawing to their respective chambers. Already, they were losing the synchronization that had allowed such crystal clear communication. 

  Optimus stirred his frame to life, wrapping digits into Starscream’s hip plating to lift the Seeker off his spike. Their spark chambers were busy reassembling themselves in their chests, but the energon lines Optimus had redirected remained. They were the result of a voluntary reflex and would remain until he bade them gone. Doubting Starscream would stay conscious long without them, the Prime left them as is. He canceled his chest plate’s effort to close and leaned back against the wall. 

  Starscream clicked quietly, laboriously shifting himself to sit sideway on Optimus’s legs. Recharge was creeping quickly, dimming the ruby light in his optics. It couldn’t drown the calculating glint, nor the determined pulse of his bright white spark.  _ Ally. Vengeance. _ Starscream traced the two glyphs onto Optimus’s chest plates. He lifted his wings and fixed laser-like optics on the Prime. There was a challenge there, daring him to accept, daring him to refuse. 

  Optimus touched a fingertip to the thin, overlapping plates that made up Starscream’s flank.  _ Partner. Freedom. _ He turned his optics to Starscream’s faceplates to gauge his reaction. Though the new-formed bond was already weakening (it would need more sparkmerges before it fully stabilized) he could sense the Seeker’s surprise. Red optics turned evaluatively to him while his processor ran a million thoughts a minute. 

_ Partner. RE-VENGE.  _ Starscream traced the glyph hard enough to scratch Optimus’s windshield. 

_ Peace. _ Optimus caught Starscream’s hand and responded through the bond.  _ Peace and life. _

  The white and red mech scowled. His wings lifted,  _ fine whatever _ closing off his end of the bond. He broke optic contact to curl further into himself. 

  Optimus found himself wishing for the instantaneous communication allowed by joining sparks. He fumbled for the right glyphs, the right emotions to smooth Starscream’s bristling plating. Their goals, he was finding, were not so different. If more of the Decepticons shared their SIC’s desires, perhaps this war could end with  _ no _ victor and  _ no _ loser. 

_ Justice. _ He chose the glyph and carefully traced it into a white wing. The warm plating pressed back for a second, then Starscream got it under control and twitched it back to an irritated angle. 

  “Kp,” he said with a shrug. Terms accepted. 


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am sadistic. I am very, very sadistic.

CHAPTER SIX

 

  “Pleasant dark-cycle, lovebirds?”

  The deep, sneering voice jerked Optimus out of recharge. He had a palm against Starscream’s wings before he was fully awake, restraining the Seeker’s twisting frame. 

  “Ch-ch-ch-ch- _ chk!” _ Starscream bared his dentae -sharp and white, Optimus noticed. He had never been close enough (while not being shot at) to see. He pressed his fingertips into Starscream’s wings, hoping the contact would calm him. Furious as he was, the white and red mech was going to do something stupid. 

  Starscream turned and snarled silently at the Prime. His wrath was  _ not _ something to be tempered.

  Megatron chuckled. “I can see you’re enjoying the Seeker whore, but I’m afraid you and I have business to attend to.” The grey and purple mech unlocked the cell and gestured for Optimus to stand and follow him. 

  Starscream hooked his claws into the Convoy’s armor, further attaching himself to him. Though he had hidden it well, the slim Flier had flinched at Megatron’s comment. And he knew that Optimus knew, so he had to be twice as aggressive to make up for it. The convoluted nuances of Starscream’s behaviour were enough to make a mech’s helm ache.

  Trying to balance  _ patience _ with _ please don’t gouge anyone’s optics out, _ Optimus wrapped both arms around Starscream’s waist. He was leery of leaving the injured mech alone in this place, and not just because his well being was now linked to Optimus’s. The Prime shook his helm at Megatron. 

  A scowl thinned Megatron’s mouth. “The hard way, then?” He smirked with one side of his face. “That can be arranged.” He moved to stride forward, only to be halted by Shockwave’s sudden appearance. 

  “Subject A has directed energon lines into subject B’s systems. Forcibly separating them is inadvisable.” The purple mech delicately removed his hand from Megatron’s arm under the heat of the glare he received. “It could kill both of them,” he added, a trifle defensively. 

  Megatron muttered something about ‘idiot Autobots’ and turned to fully face the scientist. “Get them apart, then,” he ordered. “And drop the stupid ‘subject X, Y, and Z.’ You sound like one of those holofilms.” 

  Shockwave’s shoulders tightened. “My scans indicate they are sharing major lines. I am not a doctor, my Lord.” Shockwave arranged his plating defferentially. 

  The tank-former heaved a put upon sigh. “I’ll do it myself, then.” He marched forward, closing the distance to the prisoners in mere moments. 

  Optimus couldn’t keep the alarm out of his EM. Starscream tried to twist around, fear flashing through him. Broken wings and torn metal, all sensation and smell, flooded the bond. Realizing the root of the Seeker’s growing panic, Optimus tried to turn and shield his wings from Megatron. 

  Too slow.

  Megatron’s hand shot out, digits curling into the thin white metal of a wing. Starscream gasped in pain, claws gouging the edges of Optimus’s armor. The Prime froze, unwilling to play ‘tug of war’ with the Seeker’s sleek frame. 

  Hydraulics hissed as Megatron dropped into a crouch. As though speaking to a sparkling, or a very slow soldier, he said: “Let go of the Flier, Prime. I want to talk to you without any distractions.” He dug his claws deeper into the wing. Starscream twitched and grit his dentae as energon began to weep out. 

  Optimus hesitated. Mates (even if they were made under the most hateful of circumstances) were to care for each other and see to the other’s mental and physical health. It didn’t take a genius to know that leaving Starscream here, alone aside from possibly Shockwave, was a bad idea. Also a bad idea was disobeying Megatron while he had Starscream’s wing in a grip strong enough to tear it off. 

  Reluctantly, the Convoy disengaged the energon lines running to Starscream. The flexible tubes retracted, returning to his chassis and reintegrating into his systems. Starscream hissed in discomfort as his partially healed lines once more had to take the full pressure of energon. A few started leaking where his self repair hadn’t finished. 

  Megatron pulled the Seeker back, watching like a cyberhawk as Optimus closed his chest plates. “Take the Flier, Shockwave,” he ordered, half tossing half shoving Starscream toward the cell entrance. The white and red mech caught himself on his arms, grabbing at his chest as damaged plates were jostled. He had no time to recover and express his displeasure, for Shockwave grabbed him by the other wing and hauled him away. 

  Worry shot through Optimus’s spark. He made to move after the Seeker, but Megatron stopped him with a punch to the fuel tank. 

_ Ohh, Primus. _ Spots spun in his vision. Optimus dropped to all fours, helm pounding and tanks rebelling. His limbs felt weak and shaky. Just as he got his venting under control, a pede impacted his side and hurled him into the wall. 

  “Remember, _Prime.”_ Grey faceplates with red optics pressed dizzyingly close. “That Seeker is _mine._ You are _mine._ _I_ say when you can have him. _Is that clear?”_

  Dazed, Optimus could only blink. The mutebox was still active. He couldn’t speak, even if he wanted to. Surely Megatron remembered that?

  Megatron growled impatiently. “I said,  _ IS THAT CLEAR?!”  _ Sharp claws dug into Optimus’s arm, hauling him partway up. He scrambled, trying to get his pedes under himself and stand against the grey Warlord. Megatron punched him in the tanks again, this time following it up with a blow to the face that smashed his nasal ridge and blacked out his vision. 

  When he recovered enough to locate himself, he was lying on the floor staring at the wall. Optimus tried to groan as he gathered his arms under his chest. He was bleeding from his face and arm, and his grill was bent inward, scraping against his underlying armor. Lancing pain made him gasp as something heavy landed on his side. Optimus turned his helm and traced a grey and purple pede up to the imposing silhouette of the Decepticon Supreme Leader. 

  “It seems I have not been straightforward enough for you.” Megatron’s tone was scathing, yet cold. Optimus sensed a shift in Starscream. Fear, once equal with fury, overtook his teek and made the Seeker shrink towards his mind palace. Optimus instinctively sought out the red optics of his new mate. 

  Shockwave had him, wrists and ankles cuffed, near the torture table. The white and red Flier was easily two helms shorter than the scientist, and much thinner. He scowled at the Convoy and jerked his helm toward Megatron. 

  Megatron was not pleased to be ignored. He landed another kick on Optimus’s grill. This time, Optimus felt something crack inside. He curled up, one hand over his helm and the other over his tanks. The was wetness there. Warm, sticky wetness than smelled like electricity. He had a ruptured tank. 

  “Pay attention Prime.” Megatron was at the cell door, closing and bolting it. Optimus struggled upright, pressing into his side even though it hurt. He suddenly felt very cold, and it wasn’t because of the lost energon. Megatron strode to the far side of the table and scanned the assortment of knives. In Shockwave’s grip, Starscream started to struggle. 

  Megatron selected a blade and held it up to the light. It glittered silver over jagged edges. “Get the Seeker tied down, will you? I want the demonstration to be perfect.” He replaced the knife and continued searching. 

_ Demonstration? _ mouthed Starscream. His optics narrowed, then shot wide as comprehension dawned on him. Then  _ rage, betrayal,  _ and _ nausea _ filled the bond. Optimus propped himself against the wall, pushing back at the Seeker. He had learned something, something that Optimus hadn’t. Starscream twisted in Shockwave’s hold, urgently mouthing his realization to the Prime. 

  “Stop.” Shockwave shook the tri-coloured Flier. Seemingly oblivious to Starscream’s silent curses and struggles, the purple mech strapped him to the table. Starscream got a hand free, once, and gouged deep claw marks down Shockwave’s arm. That earned him a blow to the helm and cuffs so tight Optimus could feel his own hands tingling. Optimus pressed harder into his side, willing his tank to stop leaking. He couldn’t stand, could barely crawl. He needed to know what in the Pit was going on. 

  Megatron found his knife. 

  It was inornate, smooth, and functional. Its hilt was dark and non-reflective, worn from the grasp of many hands. The blade had a few nicks, but shone a polished silver. Energon lines, attached to the battery in the hilt, veined it. When it was activated, electrified energon ran over the cutting edge in a pale pink line. The glow lit the wielder's contemplative faceplates. 

  “I want you to watch, Prime. Watch what your kind does to Warframes who dare to act like mechs, not drones. I want you to know what it feels like to be unable to protect the people who matter most to you.” He approached Starscream, prone on the table. The slotted vents in the Seeker’s side whooshed open and shut in time with his heaving chest. “You’re never going to be able to protect him. Not now, not tomorrow, not while you’re leading your Autobots into battle after battle.” Megatron took hold of Starscream’s dark face, turning it towards Optimus. The Convoy’s plating pulled close to his frame, but he lifted his chin. He was breathing almost as fast as Starscream. The barest outline of Megatron’s plan was taking form in his mind. 

  Starscream rattled his wings and tried to bite Megatron’s digits. He was in a frenzy, pedes flexing as he tried to fire his thrusters, spark whirling wildly in his chest. Above the clatter of metal on metal, Megatron continued speaking, slowly tracing the knife over Starscream’s dark faceplates. 

  “You’re going to feel every torture I inflict on him, just like what the Council did to mated Warframes. You’re helpless, Prime. How does it feel? How does it feel when the tables are turned?” Megatron, optics glinting, didn’t wait for a response. He stabbed the tip of the knife into Starscream’s forehelm and dragged it across. 

  Energon poured out of the wound. The face had hundreds of tiny lines and neural wires. It bled heavily and painfully. Starscream thrashed against the cuffs, reopening the gashes on his wrists. He kicked and clawed, mouth gaping wide in a silent scream. 

  Optimus clutched at his forehelm. He swore he could feel the energon knife scraping over his processor casing.  _ Screeeeee… _ Their bond was young and frail; it could not support complex thoughts nor channel full sensations. Optimus felt only a ghost of what Starscream did. 

  Megatron pulled the knife out with a flick of his wrist and examined his work. The gash ran above Starscream’s optic ridge and along the edge of his helmet. Energon poured out. The platelets making up his face were split apart like a canyon, leading down to the underlying skeleton. 

  Optimus watched in amazed horror as Starscream shook off the injury and snarled defiantly at Megatron. The secondhand agony was enough to make his optics water. Starscream’s pain threshold must be incredibly high. A surge of anger hardened the Prime’s resolve at the thought of  _ why _ Starscream could endure such torment. His suspicions were confirmed when Megatron turned Starscream to look up at him. 

  “Don’t wear yourself out, fool. We’ve barely begun.”

  Whether it was bravery or foolhardiness that make Starscream act, Prime could not tell -and he was bonded to the Seeker. Starscream twisted his lip plates, scrunched his face, and  _ spat _ into Megatron’s optic. It hit with an audible  _ splat _ and left the room hanging with stunned silence. 

   And then Megatron blinked, wiped his face, and  _ grinned _ at Starscream. 

 

~~~

 

  Starscream had a plan. It was a dumb plan, one that was probably not going to work and was  _ certainly _ going to be terribly painful. It had popped, fully formed, into his processor the instant he realized Megatron was imitating the old Council’s punishment for bonded Warframes. Separate, torture one and make the other watch, then leave them separated. Often in the same room, but restrained and unable to reach their bondmate while in agony so total death would be preferable. Starscream had seen it done. Some of the Council liked to take a ‘guest’ to torture sessions. 

  Starscream hid a shudder by arching his backstruts and scrabbling at the table. He clung to his plan, anchoring himself on it and tried to block off the new bond to the Prime. 

  It wasn’t going very well. The bond was young and unstable; it was triggering programming to  _ keep _ itself open and draw the two ends back together. Otherwise it would fray and drive them both mad. He took some comfort in the knowledge that his thoughts were still his own. The bond was too frail to allow true communication.

  The white hot knife vanished, and it took Starscream a second to focus his optics on Megatron’s face. The Warlord spoke, voice sneering and condescending. Starscream didn’t quite catch the words. He didn’t care. He just had to tick Megatron off enough to cloud his judgment. It was easy, really easy -when he could talk. Starscream knew how his voice sounded. It was sort of a weapon of its own. And he was good at being rude and noisy and blunt and nasty. It was probably why Megatron had shut him up so quickly. 

  So how to convey his meaning without words? 

  Starscream decided spitting would work nicely. He felt a thrill of satisfaction when the globule hit Megatron right in the optic. He held onto that gratification as Megatron shook it off and bared his dentae in a grin. 

  “You’re going to  _ scream, _ Seeker,” he rumbled. 

  “Tck.” Starscream clicked in contempt. The idiot tank had put a mutebox on him; he could no more scream than Skywarp could understand astrophysics. Starscream steeled himself and curled his lip at Megatron. 

  Megatron smirked cruelly and dug his fingers into Starscream’s throat, He yanked the mutebox loose, scarcely giving it time to disengage, and tossed it away. 

  Starscream wasted no time. It hurt to talk, but he didn’t let the grinding of gears stop him. “Have you lost your processor?! You’re plan’s insane! It’s as flimsy as untempered glass!  _ And _ it’s not even original! Do you even  _ realize-” _ Starscream cut off with a snarl as the knife stabbed into his cheek. Energon flooded his olfactories and dribbled out his nasal vent, mixing with sticky, bluish fluid from his chemoreceptors. The knife dragged back to his audial, leaving a burning rent in its wake. 

  Starscream forced back a howl of agony, replacing it with a bark of laughter. “You’re pitiful. And you have the foresight of a two-bit cleaning drone. Why don’t you go run your little plot by Soundwave; see what  _ he _ thinks? Or are you afraid of what he’ll say when he sees what you’ve bec- Hmmmf!” Pale pink energon ran into Starscream’s optic as Megatron wrapped a massive hand around his face. His fingertips crushed dents into the Seeker’s dark helmet, pressing in on his already concussed processor.

  “The only one  _ afraid _ here, is you.” Megatron’s breath was hot over Starscream’s face. The knife entered his field of vision a moment later, turning point on and descending. Optics widening, Starscream thrashed in the cuffs. Air blasted from damaged vents, rushing out over his still-open chest. His wings clattered against the hard table and he tried to swing his helm side to side. Megatron held him firm, slowly lowering the blade towards his right optic. 

  He didn’t just stab in and twist. He slid the narrow knife between the optic and its casing, then used it to lever the entire optical array out. White hot agony consumed sight. Delicate neural wires and cables snapped. Cleanser fluid oozed out and mixed with the already gushing energon. The array, wires trailing, rose slowly out of Starscream’s face, leaving a mangled mess behind. 

  Starscream was barely conscious by the time the last wire snapped. He wasn’t sure if he was still screaming, nor could he tell if Megatron still had his hand clamped over his mouth. The only thing that really  _ existed _ was the yawning maw of torment burrowing down through his faceplates. Of its own volition, Starscream’s frame writhed, kicked, spasmed, and flailed. He tore his wrists and ankles to the struts by yanking at the cuffs

  And it went on. 

  There were quite a few cables attaching the optical array to the inside of the skull, and all of those had to be tugged, pinched, and finally, severed. Neural lines ran right into the visual cortex of the processor; they too were prodded, tweaked, and finally, sliced. The hollow optical housing, all micron-thin platelets and neural ports, was mauled by knife and claw. The thin barrier between olfactory and optic was smashed and torn, leaving a deep gouge from helmet to cheek. 

 

  And then it stopped. Not all at once. Like the arch of a missile, the pain rose, peaked, and fell. With the ebbing of torment came a return of awareness. Starscream found his frame shaking with every vent, wings rattling against the table. His wrists and ankles throbbed in time with his fuel pump, sending energon dribbling over the ragged plating. It took three tries to boot up his remaining optic. The sight that greeted him was blinding white light in a starburst pattern, radiating down scorchingly. 

  He managed a scratchy groan. It sent fire through his vocalizer and into the mauled remains of the right side of his face. Starscream grimaced and twisted away from the light. 

  “... teach you to… glossa. Are you done…” A rough voice grated in and out of hearing. Starscream rolled his helm towards it, bringing his good audial around to listen. “... an utter fool out of yourself and ready to accept your part in destroying the Autobot scum? Or are you so thick helmed you can’t figure out when to give up?” Megatron’s grey visage took shape, staticy and warped. 

_ Fitting, _ though Starscream dazedly, _ that he looks like a bent mirror. _ He coughed and forced his optic to focus on the Warlord. “You’re going to f-fail,” he rasped. “And you’re go- _ ezzkck _ \- be your own und-doing.”

  Megatron reached down, hand vanishing into the massive blindspot on Starscream’s right. He tensed involuntarily, turning to keep his remaining optic on the hand. “Gah!” He bit his glossa as the tankformer patted him condescendingly. It jolted his torn face and sent burning fingers all through his flooded olfactories. 

  “Brave words from a mech in your position.” Megatron stepped back and addressed Shockwave. “We’re done here. For now.” With a strut-chilling smirk, the Warlord strode to the door. He switched off the lights, plunging the room into yellow semi-darkness. 

  For long sparkbeats the only sound was Starscream’s labouring vents and the  _ drip drip drip _ of energon. 

  “Tk-tk-tk?” The clicks were unpracticed, clearly not made by someone used to the unvoiced sounds of the Vosian protolanguage. Who else would it be but the Prime?

  “I’m okay,” Starscream coughed. He turned just enough to see the red and blue shape of the Convoy. He was crouched in the cell, one arm wrapped around his bleeding midsection and the other braced on the wall. The blue optics were pale and distressed, reflecting off a concerning amount of energon on the floor under him. 

  “Try to close  _ *cough cough* _ close the bond. You don’t want t’feel this.” The Seeker blinked back at the ceiling. He moved his right hand, testing the places the cuff squeezed. 

_ Question, worry, confusion _ filtered through the shaken bond. 

  Starscream growled.  _ Idiot Prime… _ He swept through his processor, grabbing the firewalls on the trinebond and shoving them at the matebond. They were ill-fitting and poor-working, but it was more than the Prime seemed capable of. 

  Mentally bracing himself, Starscream gave the cuff an experimental tug. It caught on the base of his thumb and his fifth finger. The torn plating hurt as it was further abused. Starscream twisted his wrist, still pulling, hoping to find a better spot. All he felt was fresh energon welling out into his palm. 

_ Just get it over with, you cowardly turborat! _ Starscream set his dentae, flexed his pedes, and  _ yanked _ up. 

  A strangled shriek escaped his vocalizer. His hand was ripped off and shredded, plating and cables stripped off the struts. It was dripping mess of agony and metal attached to the end of his arm. Trails of acid raced up to his chest and poured into his vents and lines, seizing up his every joint. Starscream shook, not daring to open his optic, not daring to move his hand. He was afraid to look, even after the pain subsided to a gnawing burn. It  _ felt _ like his hand had been sliced off, layer by layer, until nothing but exposed neural lines and struts remained. If he couldn’t use his hand, this was all for naught. 

  It took all of his willpower to lift his helm and turn it until his hand entered his field of vision. 

  It was still attached. And the sheer force of the pain indicated his neural lines were functioning. His thumb was dislocated and partially torn off, plating scraped away by the cuff. His fifth finger wasn’t much better, but… yes, he could move the other three. It hurt like the Pit, but he could use them. 

  Starscream propped himself partway up and carefully reached for his still-trapped left hand. Thumb flopping, he unsheathed his claws and set in on the metal band. 

 

~~~

 

END OF CHAPTER SIX


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait and for not replying to any comments! I've been super busy at college and haven't have much chance to write.   
> On another note, Optimus and Starscream get some help in this chapter. It's not of the mental variety.

“Blah” = Spoken dialogue

::Blah:: = Comm lines

_ “Blah” _ = Telepathy

_ Blah _ = Private thoughts

~Blah~ = Bonded talk

//Blah// = Sign Language

 

  All characters belong to their original creators. Only the writing itself is mine.

 

CHAPTER SEVEN

 

  Shock had a funny way of sneaking up on a mech. Serious trauma to the frame triggered certain protocols; protocols that pulled energon away from the limbs and processor and concentrated it in the vital organs of the torso. One of the first symptoms was a creeping cold numbness in the fingers and toes. The next was increased respiration as the energon-rich torso tried to cool itself. This served to further chill the extremities and dull pain. It left the mech simultaneously freezing and panting for cool air. 

  At the same time, the processor was running on fumes. Higher processes shut down in favour of survival programming. Keep the fuel pump active. Run energon past the spark. Don’t let the chassis overheat. Deploy repair nanites. Complex thought took a backseat to staying alive and finding a safe place to recover.

  Starscream staggered when he dropped his weight to his pedes. He managed to grab the table behind him before he fell, but it was a close thing. His vision swam, annoying lines of static rolling across it. The Seeker shook his helm, energon and chemoreceptor fluid splattering everywhere. He swung his one-opticked helm around the room, trying to remember what he was trying to do. 

  Get up. 

  Get mate.

  Get out.

  Starscream looked down at his pedes and decided he was indeed standing up. Which meant ‘get mate’ was next. The blue optics were easy to pick out from the yellowish gloom, and he hobbled towards them. Dimly, he could hear energon dripping onto the floor, following him like a second set of pedesteps. It echoed inside his helm, bouncing off the walls and ringing in his audials. 

  He fetched up on the wall and reached a hand towards the blue optics. Something impacted his fingers, jarring the scraped plating. He jerked back, trying to focus his optics on the dark lines. 

_ … bars. I need to open them. _ Starscream turned his helm to bring his left optic close to the wall. It didn’t take him long to locate the control panel, but manipulating the buttons was far more challenging that it should have been. His digits were clumsy and wavered back and forth as he typed in his override codes. The panel flashed red, glyphs scrolling over the surface. 

_ Access denied. Override codes invalid. _

  Starscream stared as the glyphs sank through the haze surrounding his processor. “Scrap!” he choked, fist striking the wall. The pain flaring through it cleared his helm for a moment. What else could he do? He could try to hack it, but he could barely see straight, let alone fight Shockwave’s programming. Starscream’s remaining optic narrowed. He  _ did _ know Hook’s medical overrides. And he didn’t really care if he got the builder-turned-medic in trouble. Served him right for being an afthole. 

  Starscream carefully typed in Hook’s overrides, then grinned as the panel turned green and the lock clicked open. The Seeker stumbled back, suddenly drained. He knew his hands and legs were shaking, but he couldn’t feel them anymore. Grey static whispered at the edges of his vision. He snapped out with a hand, catching himself on the table and ducking his helm to wait the dizzy spell out. 

_ Worry/question/worry. _ The blue opticked Prime limped close, brushing his fingertips over the white and red mech’s back. His EM field was pulled thin with pain and stress.

  Starscream leaned away, holding up a hand to stop the Prime. “M’fine.” He reviewed his list. First two items: done. Last one: not done. Now how to get out? The door, obviously. Neither of them would fit through the air vents. Latching his good hand onto the Prime’s arm, he lurched toward the exit. The red and blue mech staggered after him, nearly losing his balance before recovering. 

  “M’not carrying you, id’ot.” Starscream braced his right forearm against the wall and let go of the Prime long enough to type in Hook’s overrides. It blinked green, and the two mechs stumbled into the hallway. 

 

  Starscream normally kept blocks on his trinebonds. It kept annoying chatter to a minimum and let the white and red SIC work in peace. It served as a filter, letting each mech share only what he chose to. Not how trines were once, but war changed things. Should one of the trine be injured, the blocks would spare the other two his pain. It changed what would have been a close and vulnerable bond to the dullest awareness of the others.

  In his half-conscious state, Starscream didn’t think of what would happen once Thundercracker and Skywarp picked him up through their now-unshielded bond. He didn’t even sense their  _ startle/fear/confusion/worry _ as he dragged himself and his new mate out of their lead-lined prison. 

  He  _ did _ register the sudden wave of pressurized air and purple  _ voip _ as Skywarp teleported in. Long grown used to the dark Seeker’s unannounced appearances, Starscream was quick to snag Skywarp by the wing and drag him close. The roughness was almost enough to disguise the fact he had shifted half his weight the his uninjured trinemate. 

  Skywarp, scarcely recovered from a sudden teleport and washed with  _ pain/dizzy/sick/stubborn _ from Starscream, yelped and grabbed the smaller Seeker. “You- What- He-!” Skywarp openly gawked at the Prime. The leader of their enemies, badly injured and loose in the base. Admittedly, Starscream had a pretty good grip on his arm, but the white Seeker looked like he was about to pass out and die. 

  “Quarters. Now.” Starscream’s voice was even raspier than usual. 

  Skywarp tried to formulate a response. Maybe Starscream didn’t realize who he was clinging to? “He’s the-” 

_ “Quarters.” _ An arm tightened around Skywarp’s shoulder vents. 

  “Okay! Okay!” Skywarp twisted, got a better grip on Starscream, and stepped forward into a warpgate. 

  The effects were instantaneous. Skywarp stumbled with a grunt, hand flying to his midsection where his tanks sat empty. Teleporting three, especially one so big, wasn’t fun. A clunk behind him prompted him to turn around, mentally berating himself for turning his back on the  _ Prime _ of all mechs. 

  Starscream had dropped to his knees, wings limp and one arm suspended by the claws hooked into the Prime’s armor. For his part, the red and blue mech was slowly kneeling, trying to keep a hand over a bleeding wound on his chassis. Dent wounds. Familiar dents wounds. 

  Skywarp backpedaled. “‘M gettin’ TC.” He nearly tripped over his own thrusters as he skittered around the two crouched mechs to get to the door. He fumbled for the controls, then whipped around and leapt out as soon as the door  _ snick _ ed open. 

  “OW!”

  “Skywarp!” Thundercracker caught the smaller Seeker by the elbows, preventing a tumble. “What’s going on? Starscream-”

  “I dunno TC, but he’s hurt bad!” Skywarp interrupted, bodily dragging Thundercracker into their trineleader’s quarters. “And -and he’s got the  _ Prime _ with ‘im, and they’re both bleeding -and, and-” Skywarp broke off, gasping. He could teek Starscream through the bond, and the white and red Flier was practically  _ swimming _ in agony. 

  Thundercracker disentangled Skywarp’s digits from his plating and knelt beside the energon-splattered mass of red, blue, and white plating. “Go get Knock Out,” he ordered grimly. 

  “Is-?” Skywarp hovered, afraid to finish the question. Thundercracker shifted, turning to repeat the command, and the black and purple Seeker saw his trineleader’s face. “Oh Pri-” he vanished through a warpgate. 

 

~~~  

 

  Thundercracker kept his toes against the ground, ready to spring up and run should the Prime so much as move. He doubted it, considering how the Convoy’s helm sagged on his shoulders and his free arm encircled Starscream’s wings. The Seeker’s helm was turned away, missing optic hidden against the Prime’s chassis. Energon and something sticky and blue dripped down from the gaping wound. 

  The blue Seeker pressed two digits to Starscream’s main energon line and gauged his pulse. Too fast and too faint. His plating was cooling rapidly. Thundercracker only hesitated a second before taking the Prime’s pulse as well. He was a valuable prisoner, and Starscream was obviously trying to do something with him. 

  The Prime’s blue helm jerked up, pale optics rotating and focusing on Thundercracker. The Seeker jumped back, wings hiked. When the Prime merely stared for a few second, then lowered his helm, Thundercracker crept back. Blue optics flickered up, enough to startle the Seeker. He forced himself to stand his ground. 

  “What’s going on?” he asked at a whisper. 

  The Prime blinked slowly, then lifted his chin. 

  “You’re-” Thundercracker spotted a dark box attached to the Convoy’s throat, directly above his vocalizer. “A mutebox?”

  The Prime nodded. 

  Starscream coughed. Both mech winced at the wet sound, watching helplessly as more energon speckled the Prime’s cracked windshield. 

  “Here, hold him forward so he doesn’t choke.” Thundercracker helped the Prime adjust Starscream so the energon could drip from the unconscious mech’s mouth. The eldest Seeker noticed a set of four marks on Starscream’s throat -right where the Prime’s mutebox was. He frowned and stood. “Skywarp will be back soon,” he said, hoping he wasn’t lying. “I’ll get a blanket or something.” Thundercracker hustled to the berth and started rummaging around under it. Surely his trineleader had some warmth-retaining material  _ somewhere _ in his quarters? The blue Seeker had just wrapped his digits into a foil thermal blanket when the door  _ swish _ ed open. 

  “-why you had to drag me out of my nice warm berth. Isn’t it  _ always _ an emergency with  _ herr commandant?” _ Knock Out’s voice entered first. Then came Skywarp, wrung out and panting, but hauling the jewel red medic with an air of achievement. 

  Knock Out hit the brakes the second he saw the Prime. “What is this?!” he snarled, energon staff springing into his hands. He recoiled, yanking free of Skywarp in the process. 

  “I dunno!” Skywarp yelled back. “But there’s something really, really wrong!”

  “I can see that!” Knock Out’s optics darted to Thundercracker as the blue Seeker held up his hand placatingly. 

  “We’re not sure what’s going on,” said Thundercracker in what he hoped was a soothing voice. “We just need you to patch up Starscream enough so he can tell us. The Prime” -Thundercracker instinctively glanced at the red and blue mech- “isn’t going to hurt us.” Just saying the words made his throat want to close up.

  Knock Out’s staff trembled ever so slightly. His optics panned over Starscream’s mangled form, medic programming activating in his processor. He visibly struggled with it, then finally stowed his staff and stalked closer. “Fine, but if he so much as touches my paint, I’ll make him wish he’d never been sparked.”

  Thundercracker let out a breath as Knock Out knelt beside his patient. The blue Seeker snagged Skywarp by the shoulder and steered him to the berth before he collapsed. A few moments of rummaging produced a small stash a energon cubes, one of which he handed to his trinemate. 

  “Thanks,” gasped Skywarp, cracking it open and gulping down a mouthful. 

  “Slowly,” Thundercracker cautioned. “You’ll make yourself sick.” The whole trine knew that Skywarp would guzzle his fuel after warping. It upset his systems, and since he apparently hadn’t figured that out, it fell to one of his ‘mates to slow him down. The blue Seeker seated himself beside Skywarp and settled in for a long wait. 

 

~~~

 

  At the red medic’s instruction, Optimus moved Starscream so the Seeker’s chest was exposed for repairs. He groaned softly, his good hand twitching.

  The medic hissed softly at the sight of his face and chest. “What in Primus’s name  _ happened _ to him?” He plunged his hands into Starscream’s chassis and started pinching off lines. 

  Optimus saw the medic’s optics roam lower. His ruby red plating bristled at the sight of his patient’s damaged interface. He snapped his glare up to Optimus’s faceplates, mouth half open on a sharp accusation. Something on the Prime’s light grey faceplates made him reconsider, and he shifted enough to take a look at Optimus’s lower half. What he saw made him narrow his optics suspiciously, then refocus himself on Starscream’s mangled chestplates. 

  Half shuttering his optics, Optimus deactivated a few nonessential systems to divert power to the repair nanites working in his abdomen. The partially processed energon was starting to clot around his hand, turning to sticky globules. He felt faint and weak from the loss. 

  The medic grumbled something under his breath as he pulled temporary patches from his subspace. He started bending them into shape to fit over the Seeker’s exposed sparkchamber, and that was when Optimus decided he had seen enough. Letting his chin drop to his own damaged chestplates, he closed his optics and began to pray. 

 

~~~


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long time no see! This story is giving me no end of trouble. The characters can't decide how they feel about anything, the plot is trying to dive into politics, and I can't figure out how to get from point A to point Z. Would you believe I started this with no intention for it to have a complex plot? I literally wanted to write something violent and dark. And then this happened.

CHAPTER EIGHT

 

  Starscream jolted awake with a strangled yelp. Instantly, pain assaulted his senses. His chest throbbed, his hand burned, his face pulsed- Starscream let out a staticy groan and forced his optics to boot up. 

  “Oh Pit,” he moaned.  _ The past two days actually happened. _ If the error messages from his right optic weren’t enough, his functioning one was delivering a slightly staticky view of the Prime’s wheeled lower legs. Beyond the blue pedes were his idiot trinemates, curled up together on  _ his _ berth. And that medic with personal hygiene problems had made himself at home, snoozing away against the side of the berth. 

  In the face of this gross invasion of personal space, it was perfectly reasonable in Starscream’s processor to clamber to his pedes, cycle his vocalizer a few times, and positively  _ howl _ at the top of his vents: 

  “Whose _bright idea_ was it to break into _my_ quarters _?!”_

  Before darkness consumed him, Starscream was treated to the sight of Skywarp accidentally kicking Thundercracker off the berth, causing the Seeker to land on Knock Out and get blue scratches all over his red plating. His audials cut out on the beginnings of a shriek of rage, but Starscream was smirking before he hit the ground. 

 

  He regained consciousness to the sound of Thundercracker trying to talk down a ranting Knock Out over Skywarp’s unhelpful interjections. 

  “Will you all shut up? My helm feel like it’s about to implode…” Starscream attempted to rub his forehelm, only for a needle of pain to pierce from his optic socket to the rear of his helm.

  “Don’t touch that!” Knock Out slapped his patient’s hand away. “And don’t move! What were you thinking? Your chassis is more patches than plating, not to mention I can hardly tell what colour your nanites are supposed to be!” The red medic’s lip curled at the sorry state of Starscream’s normally pristine plating. 

  “Well excuse me~” Starscream struggled to prop himself up without using his bad hand. To his surprise, a pair of large hands wrapped around his upper arms and lifted him. An upward glance revealed the Prime’s worried blue optics. 

  “Oh it’s you.” Starscream’s voice sounded just like he felt: unpleasant and trying to be angry but not really fooling anyone. “Why hasn’t anyone take off that dumb box? Do I have to do everything myself?” Starscream pushed away from the Prime and swiped at the mutebox on his throat. Close range depth perception compromised by the loss of an optic, he missed by a few inches. 

  “We weren’t sure what to do with him,” explained Thundercracker. He was crouched just beyond the Prime’s reach, partially shielding Skywarp with his wings. His frame was tense and his optics kept darting to the Prime. 

  “Not every day your trineleader shows up half dead with a prisoner who’s s’pposed to be in the brig,” muttered Skywarp. 

  Starscream gave up on removing the mutebox. He couldn’t get his digits to cooperate and, well, he didn’t think the present company would take too kindly to anything the Convoy had to say. “How many days since his capture?” Starscream shuffled his wings, a grimace of discomfort contorting his face. The lack of pain was a pleasant surprise. Perhaps Knock Out had upped his painkiller dosage. 

  Thundercracker answered without hesitation. “Two, almost three. Where are you going with this?”

  “And did any of you see me during that time?” Starscream paused to cough. His helmache was worsening, surrounding his audials with thick vaporous clouds. 

  “Well…” Knock Out looked contemplative. 

  Skywarp snorted. “You were too wasted to know if you were schmoozing Breakdown or Dragstrip.”

  “Hey!” The red medic bristled indignantly. 

  Starscream let out a particularly nasty cough, centering the room’s attention on the  _ real _ concern here.

  Thundercracker spoke slowly, trepidation pulling his brows together. “I can’t say I did.”

  “Of course you didn’t.” Starscream scoffed, then regretted it when chemoreceptor fluid shot out of his nasal vent. He yelped in surprise and pain, hand flying to his face on reflex. 

  Knock Out pulled a face. “That’s disgusting. I’m not fixing that for you.”

  “Some medic you are,” growled Starscream, voice muffled by his hand. The Prime made an effort to fuss over the dripping wound, only to be fended off by sharp Seeker claws. “Frag off, you moron,” he growled. 

  Skywarp flared his wings, leaning around Thundercracker’s protective bulk.  _ “I _ still want to know where Screamer was all this time.  _ And _ why he’s dragging the  _ Prime _ ‘round with him.”

  “Thank you! Finally someone who can focus!” The irony that it was  _ Skywarp _ was not lost on Starscream. He decided to just spit out his news while he still had the group’s undivided attention. “While all of  _ you _ were off getting trashed,  _ I _ was called down the the interrogation chamber for obvious reasons.” He waved a hand vaguely over his shoulder, indicating the Prime. Recalling what he must explain next, his throat tightened around his vocalizer and his voice grew haunted. “The room… It must have been sealed with lead. Once I was inside, I couldn’t sense you two anymore. Megatron had Shockwave with him; they ambushed me, cuffed me.” He swallowed past the lump in his throat. “The details aren’t important, but we’re bonded now.” Starscream looked away from his trinemates, reflexively shrinking back from the impending emotional outburst. 

  “You’re fragging  _ what?!” _ Skywarp shrieked, hitting decibels rarely achieved by mechs not named ‘Starscream.’ 

  “Not by choice!” Starscream spat back. “And keep your paws to yourself!” He swiped at the Prime’s blue hand when he tried to stroke a wing. 

  Thundercracker pushed Skywarp back and moved in. “Trine talk.” He glanced at Knock Out and back at Starscream. “Now.”

  “Fine.” Starscream stuck out his good hand so his bigger trinemate could pull him out of the Prime’s lap. He flinched when the blue Seeker’s hand met his, their EMs mingling. While outwardly collected, Thundercracker was raging inside. His EM snagged wildly on Starscream’s, a twisted tangle of  _ makehimpay/areyouokay/notpossible _ crashing against him. 

  Starscream constricted his EM, optic tight with discomfort. His limbs, stiff and pained, protested at taking his weight. With his trinemate’s help, he struggled to his pedes and hobbled over to Skywarp. This wasn’t going to be a fun conversation. 

 

  Thundercracker handed Starscream off to Skywarp, getting an arm slung around the purple Seeker’s vents before stooping to lift the energon smeared blanket. The Prime shifted back a little, moving his legs to cover his exposed interface. Wings twitching uncomfortably, Thundercracker stood and backed off. 

  “Washrack?” asked Skywarp nervously. He had most of Starscream’s weight on his shoulders while the shorter Seeker slumped exhausted against him. 

  “Yeah.” Thundercracker took Starscream’s other arm and draped it over his vents. As he directed the odd assembly toward the attached washracks, Starscream lifted his helm to speak to Knock Out. 

  “Do something about that Convoy’s tank. I’m not going to die of a broken bond just because you don’t like him.”

  The medic made a repulsed face. “So long as you don’t get yourself wet. I’m not fixing you if you get solvent in your sparkchamber.” 

  Starscream snorted, but the sound ended in a harsh coughing fit that made Thundercracker alarmingly aware of how frail his trinemate’s frame felt, pressed against his. Viscous blue fluid dripped out of Starscream’s nasal vent again. 

  “We just need someplace private to talk,” explained Thundercracker tersely. He pushed towards the washrack and entered, closing and locking the door behind them. 

  Starscream wriggled, reaching toward the floor. “Set me down.  _ Careful!” _ he hissed as the two Seekers moved to lower him. He settled against the wall with a pained groan. Skywarp scurried back and crouched, optics wide and fearful. Thundercracker stayed closer as he knelt to Starscream’s level. The tiles of the washrack floor were cool and smooth underpede, and sounds echoed off the glossy sides. The room was impeccably clean, just like how Starscream normally kept his plating. 

  “Aren’t you going to say something?” Starscream’s irate snap broke Thundercracker out of his distraction. 

  “I was hoping for a more in depth explanation,” said Thundercracker with deliberate calm. 

  “What else is there to say?” Starscream grabbed the edge of the blanket and dabbed it against his nasal ridge. “It’s done. We’re bonded.”

  “And the base is still standing,” Thundercracker deadpanned. 

  Starscream’s remaining optic narrowed into a nasty scowl. “I’m not exactly in any shape to go raising Pit on the world.”

  “Hasn’t stopped you before,” mumbled Skywarp. 

  The white and red Seeker flared his remaining plating and pulled the thermal blanket around his shoulders, covering his temporary chestplates.  _ “Maybe _ I just found a better way to go about getting my revenge,” he sniffed. Even beaten and battered, Starscream managed to look dignified and offended. 

  Thundercracker scraped the bottom of his reserve of patience. “Cut the slag, Starscream.” He lifted his wings in the barest hint of a threat. “That Autobot out there is part of our bond now, and we deserve to know why.”

  Anger was met with anger. “It’s that fragger Megatron!” he exclaimed. “The moron decided to punish the Prime for being a Prime by putting him through the Council’s old punishment for bonded warframes! Of course, the dolt isn’t bonded, so he had to go grab the nearest mech and  _ make _ a bond-” Starscream cut himself off with a dramatic toss of his hands. 

  Skywarp’s plating slicked back fearfully. “Is he- Is he gonna- Y’know- .” He red optics darted to the washrack door and back to his trinemates.

  “Be torqued off to find me gone? Pit yes.” Starscream wiped a droplet of blue liquid off his mouth. “We need to find somewhere to hide,” he mused, almost to himself. 

  “I didn’t mean Megatron,” Skywarp corrected nervously. 

  Starscream’s good optic flicked up to his dark trinemate. “The Prime? What about him?” His good hand tightened on the blanket. 

  Thundercracker turned to look more directly at Skywarp. The teleporter’s teek was frizzy with fear and confusion. “Can you be more clear, ‘Warp?” He thought he knew what Skywarp was going on about, and he had to admit he was wondering also. 

  Skywarp picked at his claws and didn’t make optic contact. “You were… were the old Prime’s slave. You still have memory purges about it.” Skywarp managed a glance upward, then the words started tumbling over each other. “I don’t understand; you hate the Prime, you hate Autobots. You said you’d rather die than go back! So how come you’re okay with this?  _ Are _ you okay? Did he reprogram you? Is he-” Skywarp slammed his mandible shut and shrank away. 

  Thundercracker cringed, ready to restrain Starscream should he go ballistic. Mentioning his… time in the Primal Palace was a surefire way to get clawed by the Air Commander. The tri-coloured Seeker was in no condition for one of his outbursts. Thundercracker braced himself to drive  _ calm _ and  _ sleep _ to Starscream. Skywarp could get the sedatives from their quarters in a few seconds, Thundercracker could hold Starscream long enough to administer them… The white Seeker wasn’t moving a plate. Thundercracker stared, flabbergasted. 

  Starscream regarded Skywarp calculatingly. When he spoke, it was not with the harsh screech of anger, nor the shrill siren call of humiliation. It was soft and raspy; the voice he reserved for when one of his Fliers was stasis locked in the Medbay and he thought no one could hear him whispering to them. Thundercracker had heard him use it for Sunstorm, little Sunstorm, when the seekerling woke up in the dead of the dark cycle and couldn’t get back to recharge for fear of the shadows on the wall. The hesitation was uncharacteristic, and his hastily patched face prevented him from utilizing his full range of expressions, but Thundercracker knew that voice, that tone. It meant Starscream didn’t know if it was going to be okay. It meant he was scared too. It meant he was remembering horrors. But it also meant that he had hope it would turn out alright. It meant that they were not alone in fear, and that fear was nothing to be ashamed of. It meant courage in the face of despair, and even if Starscream himself didn’t quite believe what he was saying (and who could tell with Starscream?) it meant having a little faith.

  “I… have reason to believe… that we have been given an opportunity here. The Prime has shared his thoughts and memories with me. He’s… “ Starscream swallowed painfully. “He isn’t Sentinel. I won’t make Megatron’s mistake and treat him like he is. I think…” Starscream stopped and reordered his thoughts. “We have a chance to turn the tides of the war in  _ our _ favour. Not for Decepticons or Autobots, but for people who want peace. We were oppressed under the Senate and we’re  _ being _ oppressed under Megatron. It isn’t right.”

  “What makes you think the ‘bots’ll be any better? They’re a bunch of Senate lackeys,” snapped Skywarp fretfully. The round opticked fear on his face stole the bite from his bark. 

  “How long has it been since we saw one of the Senate’s mechs on the battlefield?” asked Starscream. 

  Thundercracker thought about it. Really thought about it. He flashed through the names of battles and searched for an enemy face that made the energon in his lines boil. He didn’t find one. “It’s… been months. Since one was in a command position.” The blue Seeker looked up at Starscream, something akin to dawning wonder spreading through his EM field. 

  “Dead or demoted,” Starscream rasped. “We  _ did _ it, ‘Warp, TC. The old order is broken and it isn’t coming back. We won the war. We just didn’t realize it.”

  Skywarp’s EM pulsated rapidly. “But we’re still fighting!”

  “For a different cause,” explained Starscream, before Skywarp’s confusion could turn to anger. “We started out fighting for changes to the government. Now, we’re fighting to put Megatron in power. He’s just tricked us into thinking we’re still fighting for the original cause.” Starscream shook his helm and let it tip back against the wall. His remaining optic closed and his mangled chest rose and fell with his vents. Utter exhaustion seeped across the bond, wrapping weights around limbs and slowing intakes. “I’ve got leverage with the Prime. More than I’ve ever had with Megatron. I can manipulate him enough to protect our people.”

  “So what do we do?” Thundercracker asked, suddenly feeling very small and very lost. He felt coiled tight despite the weary and somehow serene resolve emanating from his trineleader. 

  Starscream’s red optic flickered online. “Simple. We end the war.”

 

~~~


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I LIIIIIIVE. College has not yet devoured me (But midterms are this week, so we'll have to wait and see).
> 
> This chapter fought me like you would not believe. Especially that scene at the end.

CHAPTER NINE

 

  Unfamiliar yet soothing EM fields stirred Optimus out of recharge. He managed a staticky groan and turned his helm away from the migraine-inducing light. At the same time he reflexively reached out a hand, fumbling about for a warm frame he  _ knew _ had to be near. His spark told him so. It’s newly made second half was close. His digits encountered a smooth plate of metal and explored it. The plate pushed back, EM sleepy and indulgent. 

  Optimus traced the metal down to a finely articulated hand. The delicate sensors in it sent little  _ zings _ up his arm, almost tickling. Someone muffled a cough, or perhaps a chuckle. The mech’s EM grew bright with hazy amusement and just a little bit of sultry flirtation. Another hand traced up Optimus’s arm, barely brushing his plating. It came to rest on his cheek where it was soon joined by soft ventilations. 

  The Convoy brought his free hand up to cup the hand on his face. He stroked his thumb over the curve of the wrist in gentle circles. His mate reciprocated, thumb caressing the lower edge of Optimus’s optic socket. Optimus breathed in the smell of his mate. For the first time since his capture, he felt at peace. Here he was, the Autobot Commander, lying beside the Decepticon Second in Command. Just last dark cycle he would have dismissed this as a wishful fantasy, yet here they were. There wasn’t exactly an ‘afterglow’ to bask in, but Starscream was amused. 

  Starscream was amused. And the mech beside him smelled like polish and antiseptics, not fuel and fire.

  Optimus blinked open his optics. A blurry patch of white surrounded by red greeted him. He blinked again in an effort to calibrate his optics.

  “Ghy!” The red medic -Knock Out, Optimus recalled- jerked backwards and vanished from sight. A  _ clang _ and a curse rang out. The medic reappeared a sparkbeat later, hands transformed into saw blades. 

  Optimus didn’t think he had ever moved so fast in his life. Later, he would learn that the mech he tripped over was Skywarp, dying of laughter on the floor. The purple and black Seeker wasn’t even upset about the chipped paint -it wasn’t every cycle one got to see the Prime himself flee like scraplets were after him. At the time, Optimus was too busy peeling his frame off the floor and scrambling away from where Knock Out was ducked behind the berth. 

  He got his back to the wall before his injuries caught up with him. “Oh Pit,” he moaned, pressing a hand to his side. Temporary patches were rough and half-numb under his fingers. The throbbing pain delayed the realization for a moment. “I can speak!” he exclaimed, his other hand flying to his throat. The mutebox was gone, replaced with dabs of sealant.

  “Genius, gorgeous,” snarked Knock Out savagely. “You better not have pulled anything.” The medic disengaged his blades and stood, dusting off his frame. 

  Thundercracker stepped between the agast Prime and the indignant medic. His broad wings were lifted high and his mouth pressed into a thin line. Skywarp had no such inhibitions. He was still wheezing on the floor. Optimus was unable to summon the wherewithal to be properly offended. 

  The blue Seeker flick-twitched his wings.  _ “If _ we’re quite done playing ‘traumatize the Prime’...” he said tensely. 

  “Oh, I don’t know.” Starscream’s rough voice sounded from the desk. The Seeker sat there, surrounded by datapads and holding a map. “I think turnabout is fair play. He’s given us enough grief in the past few days.”

  Optimus gathered the sherds of his dignity and sat up straight. “You are not the only one laboring under these circumstances,” he pointed out. 

  “Exactly.” Starscream went back to his map. “My trine is affected as well. Or do you not know how bonds work?” His remaining optic glanced at the Convoy. 

  Optimus blinked. It hadn’t occurred to him that he was bonded to the entire Command trine. He looked at the other Seekers. Skywarp was still snickering, but Thundercracker kicked him to make him shut up. The teleporter whacked Thundercracker right back. Thundercracker grabbed Skywarp’s wrist before he could start a full-on fight and physically rotated his helm towards Optimus. 

  “Oh.” Suddenly somber, Skywarp bit a claw.

  Reflexively, Optimus glanced over his shoulder to see what the three Decepticons were looking at. Seeing only the grey wall, he turned back to them.  _ They’re looking at me, _ he realized. Knowing how warframes had been treated under the Council, he could hardly begrudge them their wariness. But the fearful looks and online weapons struck a blow in his very spark. He rubbed uneasily at his chestplates. 

  “Right, well.” Knock Out stepped away from the berth. “As  _ lovely _ as all this has been,  _ some _ of us have shifts starting. The base doesn’t run itself, you know.” He started for the door. 

  Starscream made as if to stand. “Where do you-”

  “Oh stuff a cube in it.” Knock Out waved off the Air Commander’s protest. “I’ll swing by sometime mid-cycle to make sure you haven’t offlined. Your new buddy too.” Knock Out gave Optimus an inscrutable look that made his plating clamp down. The door  _ snick _ ed shut behind the bright red mech, leaving the newly bonded quartet alone. Optimus couldn’t help but feel a little jealous of Knock Out’s easy retreat. 

  Thundercracker broke the silence. “He won’t talk?” The biggest of the three Seekers approached Starscream and helped him out of the chair. 

  “No,” said Starscream, and left it at that. 

  Optimus stayed where he was, unsure if he was allowed to move. What Megatron would do to them if he found them was unthinkable. Optimus simply did not have the capacity to imagine such tortures. Whatever it was, it would make the past three days look like a stroll through a crystal garden. He dug his fingers into his windshield and made sure his legs were covering his interface. 

  Thundercracker lowered Starscream to the berth and sat beside him. Skywarp rolled to his pedes and hopped up on Starscream’s other side. Five red optics fixed on Optimus. He stared back. 

  “So…” The purple and black Seeker fidgeted, hooking one pede over his knee. “Whadda we do now?” 

  Starscream rotated his wings. “We’re not staying anywhere  _ Megatron _ can get to us.”

  “Duh.” Skywarp slouched, suddenly looking very much like an ornery youngling. “I  _ meant _ what’re we gonna do about  _ that _ guy.” He gestured at Optimus. Thundercracker and Starscream both followed the gesture to regard Optimus with poorly concealed fear. The Convoy shifted uneasily under the stare. 

  “We’ll have to take him with us,” said Starscream. “The Prime’s too valuable a hostage. For both sides.”

  “Are we our own side?” Thundercracker spoke up, wings flaring in surprise. 

  “I don’t slagging know!” Starscream shot to his pedes with frantic energy. He didn’t make it two paces before he pitched over. He caught himself on his hands and knees.  “Frag!” he swore, hunching over to cradle his injured hand. 

  All three mechs moved. The Seekers, closer and more agile, reached the white and red Flier first and knelt to either side. Optimus stopped halfway through standing and let himself slide back down the wall. He found himself rubbing at his chestplates again. It felt itchy on the inside, like his nanites were swarming against a foreign invader. 

  The sensation of being watched brought his attention back to the present. Looking up, he found three dark helms turned to him. “Hm?” he asked. Belatedly, Optimus realized that the Cybertronian proto-language wasn’t the most intelligent way for the Autobot Commander to speak. 

  “... and then there’s that to take care of.” Starscream heaved a put-upon sigh. He started to pull himself up using Thundercracker’s frame. “Get me on the berth. If I have to do this I might as well be comfortable.”

  “Do what?” Optimus felt like he was missing half the conversation. 

  “Pit, you really  _ don’t _ know how bonds work.” Starscream looked the Prime up and down as though he couldn’t decide whether to be scornful or disturbed. 

  It clicked. “So soon?” Optimus couldn’t keep the squeak out of his voice. He reset his vocalizer and tried for something closer to his usual timbre. “Here? And… right now?” That didn’t sound much better. Contrary to what the three Seekers seemed to be thinking, Optimus did in fact have a general understanding of bonds. He knew they took multiple full interlocking merges to complete. He knew young bonds had to be refreshed regularly or they would dissolve and damage -if not kill- the participants. He also knew that frequent merges gave partners a stronger mental connection. Having Starscream constantly in his helm wasn’t something Optimus wanted. 

  A scoff broke Optimus out of his thoughts. Starscream spoke as Thundercracker helped him onto the berth. “When are we going to have time next? Besides, you’re already scratching. If  _ you’re _ experiencing bond-fraying, it’s only a matter of time before  _ I _ start feeling it.” The battered Seeker settled against the wall with a deep, groaning sigh. His wing flaps twitched and flicked, answered by a series of rustle-shuffles from Thundercracker. 

  “But, right here?” Optimus glanced at the other two Seekers. Skywarp had scooted to the opposite end of the berth, but he didn’t seem inclined to move. Thundercracker stood at the other side, arms crossed and lips thin. 

  Starscream’s single optic opened a slit. “We were just literally used to rape each other. Are you seriously going to be a prude now?”

  Optimus cringed. “... I didn’t mean exactly that…” He looked down in an effort to avoid making optic contact with any of the Decepticon Fliers. 

  It was Thundercracker who opted to speak up. “We’re his trine. Means we’re bonded into this mess too.” The largest of the three Seekers kept his voice even and wings still through a great force of will. 

  Skywarp jolted to attention. “Does that mean-? But I don’t wanna!” He stared between Starscream and Thundercracker, agast. 

  “We don’t ‘wanna’ either, Skywarp,” snapped Starscream. “But that’s how bonds work. We’re just going to have to deal with it.”

  “But there’s gotta be something you can do!” Skywarp jumped up and started pacing. “Can’t Knock Out do something with your, like, spark frequencies or something?”

  “Don’t you think I  _ asked _ him that?!” Starscream spread his wings out wide and angry. “There’s  _ nothing _ he can do; there’s nothing  _ anyone _ can do! Even supposing we could find a medic skilled enough to dissolve a newforged bond, we’d never find him  _ before _ both of us go mad from bond-fraying! Look at that, he’s already scratching!” The white and red Seeker pointed furiously at Optimus. The Convoy flinched in alarm, yanking his fingers away from his chestplates self consciously. 

  “That isn’t fair!” shouted Skywarp. The scene froze, like a painting in a gallery. But no mere picture could capture the conflicting crackle of the three EM fields. Pigment and minerals were a poor substitute for the starfire blazing from five red optics. No flowing molten metal could freeze with the same  _ potential _ for movement as the three Flightframes. 

  The claws on Starscream’s good hand dug into the tough surface of the berth. “No one said anything about ‘fair’, ‘Warp,” he growled. “If life was  _ fair _ you would have been raised by your Creators. Sunstorm wouldn’t whisper his prayers for fear of being heard. Seekers wouldn’t be the whores of the army. Warframes wouldn’t have to kill just for the right to raise their own creations.” He squeezed his optic shut and massaged his temple. “Fair’s got nothing to do with it.” His voice cracked with static. 

  The three mechs were silent. What was there to be said in the face of  _ that? _ Optimus couldn’t make himself look at the Seekers. Logically, he knew he was not to blame for his predecessors’ crimes. He had been a  _ dockworker _ for Primus’ sake. The closest he had come to politics was debating the news with his friends. 

  “I’m sorry.” It wasn’t until the Seekers turned to look at him that Optimus realized he had spoken. He pulled his plating in as Thundercracker’s faceplates turned as stormy as his namesake. 

  “How dare you.” Blue wings hiked high, he stalked across the room. “Do you think you have the  _ right _ to  _ apologise? _ That saying ‘sorry’ makes it okay?” Thundercracker punched the wall beside Optimus’s helm, making his audial ring. He flinched, blue optics alarmed before the Seeker’s wrath. 

  “Thundercracker!” Starscream clicked sharply. 

  The blue wings downflicked in dismissal. “You and all of your kind should be wiped off the face of the planet. You’re a plague; you corrode everything you touch!” 

  “That’s enough!” Starscream struggled to rise. Skywarp was quick to push him back against the wall, engines rumbling nervously. 

  Thundercracker rounded on his trineleader. “I will not be silenced!” he snarled. “Why aren’t you  _ fighting _ this? What’s happened to you?!”

  “I’ve been bonded to a mech who just might be able to help me,” snapped Starscream. He switched to earnest and persuasive in a sparkbeat. “We can  _ use _ this, Thundercracker. With a Prime-”

  “Exactly!” Thundercracker interrupted. “The Prime! Have you forgotten what his kind  _ did _ to us?” He pointed savagely at Optimus, who flinched at the Seeker’s sudden ferocity. 

_ “A _ Prime!” Starscream shouted back. His vents flared open and shut as he struggled to get off the berth. Skywarp chittered anxiously and tried to restrain the injured mech. The white and red Flier swiped angrily at him. “He’s  _ a _ Prime, Thunder. We can use this, just listen to-”

  “NO!” Thundercracker’s EM collided with the other mecha’s. “I can’t believe this. You of  _ all people _ should know what Autobots do.” The blue Seeker pulled himself to his full height, shaking his helm in disgust. “You’re betraying everything we stand for. Are the deaths of our comrades meaningless?!”

  “I told you this last night! We’ve  _ all _ already betrayed ourselves! I thought you understood!” Starscream grabbed Skywarp to pull himself up. 

  Thundercracker clutched his helm, squeezing his optics shut. “I don’t know. This can’t be happening, it’s not- It can’t-” He stumbled away from Optimus and dropped to a knee. “I can’t live with Autobots. None of us can.” His helm turned toward Starscream, plating bristling. “I  _ won’t _ let anyone hurt you.”

  The itching sensation under Optimus’s chestplates pulled deeper, twisting into the shape of a Seeker. Suddenly, he couldn’t bear to sit idly by anymore. The trine was imploding before his very optics. There was an edge of violence in Thundercracker’s EM field, threatening to overflow into action. 

  Optimus stood. “Thundercracker.”

  The blue Seeker’s helm snapped up, optics blazing. “YOU!” he screamed. He launched at the Convoy with claws unsheathed. Optimus braced himself but didn’t move. He had a moment to regret the loss of his battlemask, then Thundercracker was upon him in all his fell fury. The first blow swiped across his windshield in a  _ screee _ of glass. The second consisted of a shoulder-slam that knocked him into the wall. Optimus caught himself against it and held out a hand -not to stop Thundercracker, but to halt the two Seekers behind him. It didn’t matter whose side they were on; the blue Seeker needed to get this out of his system. 

  So Optimus let Thundercracker punch and claw and kick. Aside from protecting his face and damaged tank, he scarcely moved. Thundercracker was furious. His form was off, his pedework sloppy, and his blows poorly aimed. It didn’t even seem like he realized Optimus wasn’t fighting back. The Convoy parried and deflected, keeping his arms between the Seeker and his chassis, but never once did he strike back. 

  Thundercracker’s vents wheezed as he attempted another roundhouse punch. This time, he overbalanced and stumbled forward to catch himself on the nearest solid object. Optimus quickly moved his hands to his sides to let the spent Seeker cling to his chestplates unthreatened. His EM, clearer due to physical contact, was awash with utter bafflement. 

  “Not… gonna hit... me back?” gasped Thundercracker. “...the Pit are you?”

  Sensing the Seeker’s waning strength, Optimus knelt with him, letting Thundercracker lean sideways against his chassis. Overworked and stressed systems whined plaintively as they began to spiral down. 

  Carefully, Optimus lowered an arm around Thundercracker’s canopy. When the Seeker only twitched, he began to rub soothing patterns into the base of his wing. A myriad of new scrapes stung across his sensornet. Optimus thought the trade -Thundercracker calm (or shell-shocked)- was a fair one. 

  Starscream dropped in on Optimus’s other side with a grunt. Optimus leaned out of the way as the trineleader leaned across to take Thundercracker’s pulse. His blue optics met Skywarp’s. The dark Seeker ducked his helm and pressed closer to Starscream. 

  “What are we supposed to call you?” Satisfied his trinemate was stable, Starscream placed himself in the center of Optimus’s line of sight. “I’d rather not keep calling you Prime,’ or ‘pain in my aft.’”

  “Or ‘hey you,’” added Skywarp. Starscream whacked him with a wing.

  Judging by the Seekers’ teeks, the jibes were made, not so much in cruelty, but in some kind of playful, consensual verbal sparring. He made a snap decision to try to join in. “I was not aware you still considered me such an inconvenience. Were you not, just minutes ago, defending my usefulness against your own trinemate?”

  Identical expressions of surprise flitted across both Seekers’ faces. Skywarp’s turned into a frown that made Optimus fear he had miscalculated. 

  “Heh. With some training you might actually be decent company after all.” Starscream snickered. At Skywarp’s questioning  _ churrr, _ he clarified. “Prime here” -Optimus received a prod in the grill- “is trying to be sarcastic. Rather badly, I might add.” Starscream curled a lip at the now-bewildered mech. “That won’t do.” 

  Optimus stared at Starscream. He… wasn’t sure how he felt about being scrutinized like a specimen in a lab. He didn’t realise his hand was creeping toward his windshield until Starscream slapped it away. 

  “Name, scatter-processor.” The little smirk was gone. In its place was a more familiar scowl. 

  “Optimus!” exclaimed Optimus. “I was designated Optimus Prime by the Matrix,” he explained. 

  Starscream turned to look at Skywarp. The two exchanged a series of flap-flicks and wing-shuffles that culminated in a dismissive shrug. Thundercracker roused himself enough to grasp Starscream by the arm and down-flick his wings in concern. The smaller Seeker brushed him off, deceptively curt.

  “It’s better than the last one,” said Starscream. At an unseen signal, Skywarp and Thundercracker reluctantly backed off, the teleporter guiding his ‘mate. The bigger Seeker paused, casting a conflicted glance over his wing. Starscream made a shooing motion as Skywarp tugged Thundercracker’s wing. They disappeared inside the washracks, leaving the door open. 

  “Right.” Starscream grabbed Optimus by the collar fairing and levered himself into his lap. “Let’s get this over with.”

  “O-of course.” Optimus hesitantly lifted his hands to hover over Starscream’s sides. The white and red Seeker fumbled with his chestplates, trying to disengage the clasps holding the temporary plating shut. Optimus combed through his processor in search of the corresponding commands, trying to replace his embarrassment with Starscream’s business-like attitude. 

  Starscream muttered something that sounded like a curse in Seekercant as his bad hand lost its grip on a clasp. 

  “Let me.” Optimus reached into the Seeker’s chassis to help. 

  Starscream jerked back with a hiss. “I can do it myself!” And he could, as it turned out. The unmarked panels parted, pulling to either side of his protoform. His bright white spark shone inside its crystal, catching on a smattering of scars.

  Optimus felt his faceplates warm as he parted his own chestplates, baring his blue spark. It whirled in its chamber, eager for a relief from the itching sensation. 

  “Where are your dataports?” demanded Starscream. 

  “Here.” Optimus touched the back of his neck. “Why?” The little flare of alarm seemed silly. A hardline connection was considerably less invasive than the sparkmerge they were about to perform. 

  Starscream unspooled a cable from the back of his own neck. “I need to override your mating armor locks. We don’t have time to get stuck together.”

  “Ah.” Optimus opened the platelets over his ports and let Starscream plug in. The mech sifted through some autonomous programing, then muttered: “there,” and unplugged. Optimus leaned his helm against the wall as Starscream made himself comfortable. He felt his spark reach out toward its other half, tangling their coronas. He closed off his mind to it and fixed his optics on the wall. It was shameful, taking pleasure in this act. They had no choice and it was wrong to enjoy it. 

  “Don’t think about it.” Starscream fanned his wings and looped his arms around Optimus’s neck. It brought their sparks fully together in a surge of energy that crackled and sparked through their EMs. The jolt of pleasure made Optimus bite his glossa. He knotted his hands into fists and concentrated on his venting. 

  Starscream dug his chin into Optimus’s neck. Hot air blasted from his vents as he passed a corona-wave to Optimus. It fizzled like water droplets on a scalding surface, then dissipated into his frame. The Seeker hissed, irritation simmering from his spark. 

  “Have you never merged before?” he snapped. “You’re supposed to reciprocate!” His legs gripped and released Optimus’s hips. 

  “A-actually-” Static from the absorbed sparkcharge made his vocallizer fritz. “I was never terri  _ -ahem- _ terribly interested in interfacing.” He wasn’t interested  _ now _ either. His array was just as cool as Starscream’s. 

  Starscream stilled. Even his spark seemed to pause in its hectic whirling. “Perfect,” he said to the ceiling. “Next thing you’re going to tell me is that you think only bondmates should sparkmerge.”

  Optimus apparently failed at stifling his reaction, because Starscream groaned and bonked his helm against his shoulder. 

  “I don’t have a problem with people who do,” Optimus hurried to explain. “I had just planned on waiting.” Sadness twinged through him at the loss of something that he would never know. He hadn’t really had anyone in mind, not yet, and certainly not with the war. But after it, because he was so certain there would be an  _ after, _ he had thought he might have a chance to meet someone. 

  There were  _ feelings _ stewing in Starscream. “Just- Let’s just get this over with, alright? When I volley energy at you, you push it back at me.” 

  Optimus compiled. He got the hang of it fairly easily, finding the rhythm surprisingly soothing. It was hypnotic, like the pulse of the tides, and utterly different from the firestorm earlier. Instead of a full frontal assault, he picked up tendrils of thought and emotion from Starscream. Optimus shifted his processor to analyzing that, not the errotic heat and throb in his chest. 

  Starscream was guarded this time. Doubtless because he had had time to prepare, and wasn’t in the midst of a full blown panic. Optimus wondered how much Starscream was picking up from him. He wasn’t teeking much more than stiff-backed determination and razor-edged focus. The fire was tempered to a slow burn that could simmer for  time untold before exploding with the force of a nova. 

  The Seeker shifted his weight, pede talons scraping against the floor. There was boredom at the forefront of his mind. “I don’t have time for this,” he growled, ramping up the frequency of energy surges. 

  Surprised, it took Optimus a second to order his thoughts. “You have plans, then?” It felt strange to be speaking of such a subject right now. Optimus tried to lock onto the colourful strand of images and glyphs that sprang across Starscream’s processor. He was determined not to become a pawn in one of Starscream’s infamous schemes. 

  “Nothing you need to concern yourself with,” snapped the Seeker. He sent a particularly strong surge into the Convoy’s chamber to distract him. 

  Wise to his methods, Optimus kept his target in sight. He managed to snare the volley with his corona and pass it back to Starscream, nosing curiously into his surface thoughts as he did. It gave him vertigo. It looked like Starscream had four or five different plans playing out in his helm, each tagged with a different colour and glyph-chain.The scenarios ran simultaneously, dividing and converging like a roadmap. Vital points were marked along each path, as though there was a great checklist in the sky. The sheer quantity of things going on was dizzying, but the details were what left Optimus reeling. 

  Starscream booted the dazed Prime out. “That’s what you get for sticking your nosecone where it isn’t wanted,” he snipped. 

  Optimus would have responded had the growing sparkcharge not chosen that moment to overflow their chambers. Electricity popped through their EM fields in visible sparks that danced over their frames. Optimus stiffened at the unexpected  _ sensation _ of it all. It had his cables tightening, plating trembling, and optics closing. As if there was more power rushing through his frame than he knew what to do with. 

  The overload faded, taking with it the respite. Though the itchy  _ pressure _ feeling was sated, Optimus didn’t actually feel any better. The speed with which Starscream stood and limped away didn’t improve his mood. Optimus rose more slowly, frame slightly stiff from his injuries. He regarded the Seeker with a frown. Starscream was seated, going over a set of maps as he tried to slow his cooling fans. His presence was dulling quickly in the bond, but not quickly enough to hide the shaky teek of  _ revulsion _ and  _ nausea. _ There was  _ guilt _ there too, guilt and self-loathing. 

  The Convoy took a hesitant step forward, hand rising. 

  One wing flinched. “I’ve called my trine.” And just like that, the chance to speak, however futile it might have been, was gone. 


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A lot happens in this chapter.
> 
> I'm borrowing Icestorm's name from another author. I'm not sure who, but I remember reading it some time. I've also had to throw in a few OCs in supporting roles because I can't find enough canon Seekers.

“Blah” = Spoken dialogue

::Blah:: = Comm lines

_ “Blah” _ = Telepathy

_ Blah _ = Private thoughts

~Blah~ = Bonded talk

//Blah// = Sign Language

 

  All characters belong to their original creators. Only the writing itself is mine.

 

CHAPTER TEN

 

  Skywarp sank to the washrack floor beside Thundercracker. “Wha’ just happened TC?” he asked, slightly dazed. 

  “...dunno.” If Skywarp was dazed, then Thundercracker was stupefied. “Blew up at ‘im. Hit ‘im. Why didn’t he hit back?” Thundercracker’s wing hit Skywarp’s as he jerked forward. “Primus! What if he’s taking it out on Star?!”

  Skywarp grabbed Thundercracker by the arm and pulled him down. “And? What’re you gonna do about it? Run out there and attack  _ the Prime? Again? _ And they call me stupid.” Skywarp tried for a joke. When Thundercracker curled up against the wall, helm in his hands, Skywarp sobered. “TC? TC, you okay? I- I didn’t mean to call you dumb. I was trying-”

  “How did he know that?” whispered Thundercracker. 

  Skywarp stopped speaking, digits tracing circles over Thundercracker’s wing. There was a terrified wobble in his trinemate’s voice, foreign to the deep baritone. It made Skywarp scared, because TC  _ never _ got scared. 

  “Do you remember when you and I trined with Scree?” Thundercracker asked shakily. 

  “Well, yeah, ‘course.” The purple and black Seeker moved to lean against Thundercracker, still rubbing his back. Sounded like the blue seeker was gearing up for one of his anecdotes. Skywarp tried to shut down a few triangulation subroutines so he could listen.

  “”It was right at the start of the war. Star was setting up a chain of command in the surviving Seekers.”

  Skywarp interrupted. “Yeah, I know TC. I was  _ there. _ You got yourself all glitchy about him being in charge and yelled at ‘im. He yelled back and you started clobbering him and next thing anyone knew you were his number two.”

  “He let me hit him. He- I lost control; I was at my worst. And he didn’t hurt me.” Thundercracker met Skywarp’s concerned gaze. “He saw what I needed to regain control and gave it to me.”

  “Yeah. S’what trine does.” Skywarp stared at Thundercracker, processor cranking into high gear. “The Prime just did that too.”

  Thundercracker nodded, solemn and fearfully stunned. 

  Skywarp brushed lightly against Starscream’s muted bonds. The shields weren’t back to one hundred percent, granting his trinemates a tiny window into his mental state. There was no pain or terror or fury. Starscream was annoyed and stressed, but that was normal. The Prime wasn’t taking Thundercracker’s infraction out on him. 

  Skywarp slouched heavily on the wall. “He’s not a Seeker. He dunno what he’s doing.” Because few not raised among the speedy Fliers understood that a trineleader was not just the best and fastest in the air. Yes, trines flew together and a trine who couldn’t fly as one rarely lasted. But the  _ leader _ was chosen because he was attuned to his ‘mates needs and willing to give his own lifeblood to meet them. He proved time and time again that he would do anything within his power to ensure the safety and happiness of his trine. He demonstrated that, no matter what, he would never lay a hand in malice upon his trinemates. 

  In military settings, where Seekers had downtime together, left and right wings could taunt and test potential leaders. Their Grounder masters pointed at duos of Seekers bullying and beating on single Seekers and said ‘look how the savage beasts treat each other.’ Other Seekers noticed that the potential leader was never truly injured. Other Seekers noticed that, more oft than not, the single and duo became a trio with the single at the helm. 

  Skywarp was often isolated from his frametype due to his valuable Sigma ability. He bounced among owners with the  _ ching _ of credits in the background. Never spending long in one place, he knew little of Seeker culture. 

  Starscream wasn’t much better. Towers Seekers rarely formed trines. There were not many of them and they often didn’t have time. By the light-cycle they were optic-candy, a pretty frame to be ogled and groped. By the dark-cycle they were berth toys, nonexistent except for their bodies. Few were the chances to interact with framekin.

  Thundercracker knew the most of either of his trinemates. Before being sold as a bodyguard, he had been a typical border patrol/military tool. He had seen the courting process before. He was the one who recognised Starscream’s passive response to his attack for what it was and initiated a courtship. Starscream had taken a bit more convincing. 

  Skywarp swallowed nervously as he curled closer to Thundercracker. “It was probably an accident. We can’t have two trineleaders.”

  Thundercracker shook his helm, wrapping an arm around Skywarp. They sat like that, in silent contemplation, for many minutes. Through the door Skywarp could hear occasional sounds: armor scraping, fans spinning. It was quieter than he thought it would be. So quiet, that he would have missed the deep groan of overload had he not sensed Starscream climax through their bond. 

  Skywarp fidgeted, picking at the seams of his canopy. The bond between Starscream and what’s-his-name was still weak, so Skywarp couldn’t sense the Prime too well. He was a steady-moving presence resting quietly behind Starscream’s vibrant self. Even as he listened, the presence faded. 

  “Come on.” Thundercracker stood, offering Skywarp a hand. 

  Skywarp took it, asking: “You okay? We could hide out a for a minute or so.”

  The blue Seeker shook his helm, face grim. “We can’t hide from this.” Both Seekers jolted as Starscream summoned them via bond. Thundercracker managed a wane smile that came out more like a grimace of pain. “Besides, Starscream’s not going to wait around.”

  Not at all convinced by Thundercracker’s assurances, Skywarp trudged to the door and stuck his helm out. 

  Starscream had gotten himself back to his desk while the Prime stood awkwardly near the exit. His light faceplates flushed when he made optic contact with Skywarp. Skywarp stared back only to be nearly knocked over by Thundercracker as he skittered over to Starscream. The blue Seeker exchanged a few hushed words with their trineleader. Good hand grasping Thundercracker reassuringly, Starscream stepped past him to address the room. 

  “We’re leaving. Skywarp, spread the word. All Seekers are to abandon their posts and gather at the ruins one-hundred fifty miles north of here at my signal. No comms. Use the trinebonds.” The Air Commander turned to the Prime. “Can you pilot a hovercraft?”

  The Convoy straightened. “I’ve had basic training.”

  “It’ll have to do.” Starscream fixed his single optic on Thundercracker. “You’re with me. And him,” he added, twitching a wing at the Prime. “We’re going to the hatchery.”

  The other two Seeker jolted in alarm, deep-written reflex screaming denial at the prospect of the _ Prime _ in the  _ hatchery. _ Skywarp got his voice under control first. “Him?! In the hatchery?! Are you nuts?”

  “I will be if you don’t get your thrusters in gear!” Starscream snapped. 

  Skywarp took a step back. His tanks were still roiling with anxiety, but he obeyed his trineleader. ~You had better be fragging right, Screamer,~ he said as he teleported away. 

  Starscream’s sharp ‘of course I’m right!’ didn’t ring quite true. 

 

~~~

 

  Optimus stayed close behind Starscream as the Seeker led them through the Decepticon base. Thought patterns and prediction webs fluttered around the transparent edges of their bond, a background buzz in Optimus’s audials. He watched as Starscream walked, noting the limp that favoured his right leg and the uplifted wing that covered his blindspot. 

  “Shh.” Starscream held out an arm to press Optimus against the wall. Thundercracker, the rearguard, imitated him. The blue hand, uncomfortably close to his still-uncovered interface, made Optimus squirm. Starscream’s single optic glowed under his helmet as he leveled a smirk at him. 

  Before Optimus could formulate a retort, the Seeker was beckoning them onward. They crept through the base, dodging passersbys and patrols. It wasn’t long before Optimus was utterly lost. There were no markings on the walls nor windows to the outside. Whatever force guided Starscream was unknown to him. They went up a set of stairs and past a Rec-room, around a training room and through a wing of living quarters. 

  As they scurried along, Optimus felt something unwind inside his chest. Like a tight ball slowly relaxing, his fuel pump beat easier. “I think- I think there’s something wrong with my spark. It feels weirdly light,” he whispered. 

  Starscream spared him a glance. “You’re fine,” he said dismissively. He ducked down another hallway before Optimus could protest. 

  Thundercracker shouldered past Optimus. “You’ll have to try harder than that,” he growled. 

  Optimus stared at the Seeker’s blue wings in shock. It quickly faded, replaced with indignation. He wouldn’t complain of spark problems just to get under Starscream’s plating! Steeling himself against Thundercracker and his own fluttering spark, he forged after the pair with a scowl. 

  Starscream was stopped at a door, typing in a passcode. As Optimus approached, he tilted a wing to block his view.  _ “Grounders _ we  _ like  _ are barely allowed in. The hatchery is sacred to us. You will keep your helm down and your hands at your sides. You have no authority or rights here.”

  “You don’t deserve to see this.” Thundercracker cut in. “You’re only here because none of us have a choice in the matter. Touch  _ anyone _ and I’ll rip your arm  _ and _ spike off.” 

  Starscream’s proud glance at Thundercracker made Optimus’s fuel tank nosedive. The lock beeped and the door slid aside. Instantly, the sound of pattering feet filled the hall. A sparkbeat later the brightest yellow-gold sparkling Optimus had ever seen was latched onto Starscream’s legs. 

  “Sunstorm!” Starscream knelt and half hugged half pushed the sparkling back into the hatchery. “Acidstorm, gather the seekerlets,” he called as he entered the chamber. Thundercracker tailed him, distractedly tousling the helms of the two sparklings that gamboled around them. Optimus followed just enough to let the door close, then stood near the wall with his hands clasped and helm down. That didn’t stop his optics from darting about the hatchery, taking in the blanket-filled hollows in the ground and raised bassinets. Slap-dash playthings lay scattered across the floor, all well-worn by active bitlet hands (and mouths and thrusters). 

  A green and olive mottled Seeker wove through the shrieking and leaping sparklings. “What’s going on, Winglord? What happened to you?” Acidstorm looked Starscream up and down, alarmed. 

  “No matter.” Starscream’s wings blurred through a set of twitches and rotations. “Where are your aids?”

  Acidstorm turned, starting to indicate a backroom, when his yellow optics lighted on the blue and red mech lurking by the door. He screeched, leaping forward and planting his frame between Optimus and the sparkings. “GET BACK! GET BACK OR I’LL KILL YOU MYSELF!” Lasers swung up, aimed at the Convoy’s spark. Sparklings scattered, tiny frames diving for cover. 

  “Stand down, Acidstorm!” Starscream shoved himself against the green Seeker’s arms. “He’s mine.” There was an undertone in Seekercant that Optimus didn’t understand, but it made Acidstorm straighten in shock. 

  “You can’t be serious.”

  “Does this look like I’m joking?” Starscream pointed to his missing optic. When Acidstorm backed down, Starscream pointed to the backroom. “Get your aids. We don’t have time to lose.”

  “What’s happening? Acid?” A grey Seeker appeared from the backroom. 

  Starscream spoke over the green Seeker. “We’re evacuating. Get the seekerlets ready to fly.”

  “Fly?” Dark helms popped up all over the room. Sunstorm appeared at Starscream’s side, pale digits interlaced with the adult’s knee joint. Optimus looked closely at the sparkling. He glowed, and not just because of his nanite colour. Actually, honest to Primus, glowed. 

  The grey Seeker was joined by a bright red one. “Evacuate?” he parroted. 

 

  The next minute was chaos. Starscream, with Sunstorm at his side, stood at the center, directing. All told, there were only five sparklings. Two others Sunstorm’s age and two not long out of the pod. Acidstorm’s aids -Cloudcover and Fireracer- each took a squirming bitlet and tucked them into their cockpits. At Starscream’s urging, they left for the meeting point without delay. That left three Seekers and three sparklings. Under normal circumstances, they would have no problem carrying them. But Starscream was injured. His attempt to lift Sunstorm left him gasping in pain and leaning on Thundercracker. 

  “Pit!” he swore. “Not you,” he snapped as Sunstorm shrank back. The yellow sparkling had yet to make a sound. 

  “I can carry two,” said Thundercracker. A yellow and black femme kicked the inside of his chest. 

  “And fly, and dodge weapons fire? No.” Starscream shook his helm and reached for Sunstorm. The sparkling danced out of reach, golden optics wide. Starscream cursed again. 

  “Icestorm says the Seekers are ready and waiting.” Acidstorm stepped to Starscream’s side, his own passenger securely strapped in under his canopy glass. The infant, lavender plating turned orangish-brown by the yellowed glass, waved his fists about excitedly. 

  “So does Skywarp.” Thundercracker tried to grab Sunstorm, only for him to back off, shaking his helm. “Sunstorm!” Thundercracker barked, patience wearing thin under the pressing weight of time lost. 

  “Don’t yell at him!” Starscream shoved Thundercracker, nearly knocking them both over, but it was too late. Sunstorm ran, wings flat with fear. 

  Optimus watched with a detached sort of dread as the sparkling veered towards him. He saw Acidstorm start to run, thrusters skidding on the floor. He saw Thundercracker raise his lasers. He saw Starscream’s optics go wide with horror. 

  Sunstorm ducked behind Optimus’s pedes and clung to his wheel wells. His frame was warm, almost hot, and his EM crackled with barely contained energy. The tiny sparkling looked up, meeting Optimus’s startled blue optics with wise gold orbs. 

  “Sunstorm… Stormy, come here. Come here Stormy.” Acidstorm knelt, trying to coax Sunstorm away from Optimus without getting too close to the Prime. Optimus could feel Acidstorm’s terrified EM. He shifted, gently moving the leg that Sunstorm clutched. 

  “Nnoooo~” whined the sparkling, gripping tighter. 

  Acidstorm fell back on his aft. “He spoke. Star, he spoke!” Elation wiped away the fear in Acidstorm’s teek. 

  “I know!” Starscream looked delighted as well. “Now get him over here before he gets us all caught!”

  “I’m… not sure he’s going to let go.” Optimus shuffled his pede forward, only for Sunstorm to hook his claws and pede talons in. “Ow.”

  “We don’t have time for this.” Starscream shook off Thundercracker and marched right up to Optimus. Bodily spinning the Convoy around, he tried to pry Sunstorm off. 

  “Nooo!” squealed the child. 

  “Ow; Primus!” yelped Optimus. 

  “Sparklings; the lot of you!” Starscream whacked Optimus on the audial. “Get that seekerlet someplace more secure than your fragging  _ pede _ and  _ so help you _ if I find  _ one scratch _ on him I will  _ end you, _ bond or not!”

  Optimus turned enough so he could see the rest of the hatchery as he knelt, reaching for Sunstorm. The three adult Seeker visibly tensed when his fingertips found Sunstorm’s back. The tiny mech let go easily and allowed himself to be cupped close to Optimus’s chest. In fact, he clambered up the broad chestplates and wedged his frame into the hollow of the Convoy’s neck. 

  With some difficulty -the sparkling was practically oozing under his armor- Optimus looked down at the one being who was not afraid of/trying to kill him. Sunstorm didn’t look back; he was busy wriggling deeper into Optimus’s chest. 

  “It’ll have to do.” Starscream limped back to Thundercracker, dismissing Acidstorm’s frantic questions. Once he had an arm over his trinemate’s shoulders, Starscream flicked his wings for Optimus’s attention. “The Seekers are standing by to desert at my order. We’re going to the hanger and you’re stealing a hovercraft. You’ll follow us and if you crash I’ll only stop long enough to get Sunstorm. Got it?”

  “Understood.” Optimus nodded seriously. 

  “... shut up.” Starscream, with Thundercracker in tow, strode toward the door. His helm tilted, wings lifting; then he spoke again. “They’re off. We have to be fast before the Grounders realize what’s going on.” The petite Seeker took the lead, guiding the four mecha through the winding hallways. 

  Again, Optimus felt that curious lightening in his chest. The space between his spark, the Matrix, and Sunstorm’s warm frame seemed to grow and lift, adding strength to his limbs. “Are we getting closer to the surface? Is that what I’m feeling?”

  Starscream glared over a shoulder vent. “I told you to shut up.” He took a hard right and shot out a control panel. Thundercracker, at an unspoken order, passed Starscream to Acidstorm and pried open the doors. The chaos of a hanger undergoing lockdown spilled out. Without hesitation, Starscream waded into it. 

  From somewhere in the upper reaches of the hanger two trines plus Skywarp descended, scattering the scurrying Decepticons. Skywarp slid into place on Starscream’s other side while the six more Seekers took up a protective formation around their offspring and leader. 

  They must be communicating over trinebonds and secure Flier channels, for not a word was exchanged between the sleek Flightframes. It left Optimus strangely unmoored, a scrap of flotsam in a river of mercury. He stuck to Starscream’s thrusters, all too aware that these Seekers had next to no reason to see to his survival. Around them, mechs raced to and fro. Their attention elsewhere as a malstrom of orders flew by via comm, few registered the presence of a large Grounder in the middle of the Fliers cutting through their midst. Fewer still spared him more than a cursory glance. 

  “There’s your ship.” Starscream pointed to a grey-blue craft with stabilizer fins jutting from its flanks. Skywarp vaulted onto a fin and unlocked the door. He scanned the interior quickly. “All clear Star.” He grabbed Starscream by the arm and hauled him up, aided by Thundercracker. 

  “What are you doing?! Put me down!” Starscream struggled, catching Thundercracker in the collar fairing with a pede talon. The blue Seeker grit his dentae and shoved his trineleader into the hovercraft. 

  “You can’t transform, Scree,” said Skywarp matter of factly. “And -ow- you don’t have the energy to  _ -yeow _ , wing!- fly fast.”

  Optimus climbed into the hovercraft, carefully circumnavigating the unfolding battle of Skywarp and the seatbelt vs Starscream. He sat in the pilot’s seat and glanced over the controls. Panels blinked, Cybertronian glyphs projecting the ship’s off-duty status. Optimus fumbled about for something more useful -say,  _ flight controls? _

  “Can you fly it?” snapped Thundercracker. 

  Optimus startled at the Seeker’s sudden presence. “Er, yes, I think so.”

  Crimson slits bored holes in the Convoy. “You better,” he growled. 

  EM projecting  _ respect, _ Optimus lowered his optics. “Could you- Where are the controls?” he asked. 

  Thundercracker’s scowl twitched. “Here.” He leaned over Optimus, wing stabbing right into his face, and dismissed the control locks. The top panel slid away, revealing a more familiar set of screens and buttons. 

  “Ah, thank you.” Optimus initiated the engine. The hovercraft rumbled to life below him, running lights brightening and anti-gravs engaging. 

  “TC, c’mon! We gotta go!” The ship rocked as Skywarp leapt off. Starscream hollered a final insult before engaging a vengeful pout. 

  Thundercracker lingered a sparkbeat. “You keep him safe. Stormy too. We’ll know if  _ anything _ happens.” The Seeker released his death-grip on Optimus’s arm and was gone before Optimus could question how he was supposed to mistreat Starscream when they were both strapped to opposite sides of a ship that he was busy piloting. Shaking it off, he closed the door and pointed the craft’s nose toward the exit. Dark Seeker silhouettes wove through the bright grey mouth of the hanger. He followed their swift forms, ignoring the proximity warnings. An impact rattled the ship, inciting a curse from Starscream. 

  Optimus gunned the engine as the ship shot out of the hanger. Cybertron’s battered surface opened up below him, grey and shimmering with the light of their dying star. For a moment, he couldn’t find the horizon. Ruined buildings, blackened craters, and upthrust crust formed a jagged field into the distance. Gravity pulled sideways with the leaning skyline. Sunstorm squealed and dug his claws into his plating. 

  A Seeker fell in ahead of Optimus’s hovercraft, afterburners scorching the air. Desperately grateful for the guide, Optimus turned to follow the mech’s slow bank. He spotted the exit of the hanger -level ground on a massive spur of tectonic plate that stabbed black into the sky. Behind the mountain, the ruined city rapidly faded into a flat and barren wasteland. In the distance, the silvery surface melded with the sky in a purple-blue haze. 

  ::Keep heading for the abandoned settlement in The Wastes. It’s almost exactly north of here.:: The ship’s comm crackled to life with Thundercracker’s curt voice. 

  “Received, will comply,” replied Optimus. “Are we being pursued?”

  Thundercracker snorted. ::None of your business,  _ Grounder.:: _ The line cut out without preamble. 

  “Seekers are -were- over ninety percent of Megatron’s Fliers,” rasped Starscream. “And Grounders can’t go very far into The Wastes. Something about sand and giant arthropods.” He shrugged carelessly. Optimus knew it even though he couldn’t see the Seeker. 

  Optimus let the silence rein for almost ten minutes. When it appeared they were not about to be shot out on the air he risked a glance over his shoulder. “What are these ruins we’re going to?” 

  Starscream, slouched and sulking in his safety harness, tipped his helm toward Optimus. “Some little town that got swallowed by The Wastes after everyone abandoned it. It’s secure enough -if you can fly.” He flashed a predatory grin at the Convoy. 

  Optimus refused to be baited. “So it’s true about The Wastes. They’re growing.” He had heard about the barren expanse of particle metal. Rumor held it was made of the dust of broken cities and incinerated bodies. 

  Starscream’s EM, just barely tangible at this distance, became detached. “Or the rest of the world is shrinking.”

  Optimus watched the silver land blur by. Was it his imagination or were the shadows in the surface too regular to be made by wind? Was there some substance to the stories of mutant mechanimals hiding here? Beasts twisted by war and famine that consumed anything that smelled of energon. Creatures that could appear and disappear at will, like a mirage. Optimus wondered if Mirage had infiltrated the Decepticon base in search of him. 

  The Seeker in front of the hovercraft bobbed in the air before angling into a shallow dive. A dark smudge on the silver backdrop centered itself on the windshield. Other Seekers could be seen descending towards it. 

  “Is that it?” asked Optimus, pointing. 

  “Yes.” The answer was uncharacteristically brief. Optimus risked a glance at the Seeker. His arms were crossed over his damaged canopy and his wings were held at an awkward angle by the safety harness. An expression on furious concentration twisted his dark faceplates. 

  “I do not wish to cause you pain,” said Optimus, optics forward again. “I know you have little cause to believe me, but I genuinely want to end this war and rebuild Cybertron as a place that  _ all _ Cybertronians can live.”

  “Too bad Warframes are considered smart mechanimals, then,” scoffed Starscream. 

  Optimus frowned at the faint reflection in the windshield. “That is not true. It has not been true since I became Prime. You saw my memories.”

  Starscream was slow to respond. “Just because you think that doesn’t make the  _ Autobots _ a safe place for my Seekers. I know what this is about.”

  “What is this about?” Optimus asked in genuine confusion. 

  “You want us to go fly to your faction so you can control us. That’s not happening. Not until  _ I _ say we’re good and ready.”

  Optimus took another glance at the scowling Seeker. “I do not wish to control you,” he said sincerely. “Nor did I intend to imply that you should take your people to the Autobots. Since you bring it up, though… I must ask, why not? It is safer than an abandoned town in the middle of nowhere.”

  Starscream crossed his legs at the ankle. “Tell me, what would happen if a flock of angry, confused Seekers showed up at your headquarters with an obviously raped Prime newly bonded to the savage Winglord?” His single optic glinted red in the windshield. 

  Optimus lowered his gaze to the pale sands far below. “Someone would start shooting,” he admitted. 

  “Right,” Starscream confirmed. “And this whole ‘alliance’ thing would fall apart before it even got off the ground. This whole situation must be handled very carefully.”

  Pride and admiration flickered through Optimus. He pushed the feeling at the bond, glancing over his shoulder to see if Starscream reacted. He didn’t. Optimus sighed and turned back to the controls. “I take it you have selected a plan?” 

  “All you need to know is your part. Keep quiet, don’t look at anyone, and let me do the talking.” Starscream’s tone left no room for argument. 

  Optimus frowned, but followed the flying Seeker between two ruined buildings. Silver metal particles had piled up around the structures in great dunes, some of them several stories deep. Debris stuck up here and there, casting dark shadows on the sand. Most of the buildings’ windows were broken, admitting floods of sand and offering shelter to wild beasts roaming The Wastes. 

  The click of a seatbelt heralded Starscream’s approach. He steadied himself on the back of the chair, peering out the windshield. “Set us down there,” he ordered, pointing at a low, broad building. Their Seeker guide banked away, soaring towards a taller building. 

  Optimus opticked the low structure skeptically. “Are you sure it will hold the hovercraft?” he asked. He didn’t see any holes in the roof, but everything here was in such a terrible state of disrepair… 

  “Yes,” snapped Starscream. “Now land the stupid thing.” The Flier hovered over Optimus as he slowly guided the craft down. It landed with a bounce, jolting both occupants. Starscream vocalized his displeasure at being shaken like a sparkling’s toy. 

  “Sorry.” Optimus shut down the antigravs and thrusters. He kept the engine running so the control locks wouldn’t engage. He didn’t want to be completely and utterly without an escape route. “What do we do -ow!” For the second time in under an hour, Optimus had a sharp Seeker wing shoved in his face. Starscream leaned around him, his good hand flying over the controls. With a hiss, the door opened. 

_ “You _ stay here.  _ I _ go explain what’s going on to my people.” Starscream’s smirk would have been cute if not for the deadly edge to his expression. “Don’t wander off.”

  Optimus checked his faceplates for energon as Starscream swept out of the hovercraft. Yep. That razor-edged wing had left a neat slice in his cheek. He pressed his digits to it in hopes of stopping the bleeding. In his collar fairing, Sunstorm squeaked. 

  “What is it, little one?” Optimus brushed his fingertips over the sparkling’s wings. He felt the tiny mech jerk deeper into his armour. “If it is the Matrix you are after, you are going in the right direction.” Indeed, Sunstorm had worked his pede pretty deep. It was almost tickling the protoform under Optimus’s heavy chestplates. 

  Sunstorm’s golden optics glowed up at him. “Pri’sus,” said the sparkling. 

  It took Optimus a second to translate the sparkling’s speech. When he did, he couldn’t help but smile. “Yes, little one. The Matrix is connected to Primus.”

  “Pri’sus!” Sunstorm burrowed back into the Convoy’s armor. One of his hands found Optimus’s protoform and raked over the sensitive metal. 

  Optimus covered his mouth on an exclamation of surprise. “That tickles! Where are you going?” Sunstorm had vanished, aside from a turbined pede that twitched and wiggled in the air. 

  Optimus turned to the door when the hovercraft shook gently. Skywarp was there, wings held back defensively. He took in the Prime with guarded optics, then crept to a seat and perched there. 

  “S’posed to keep an optic on you,” he mumbled by way of explanation. 

  Optimus nodded his understanding. If he listened closely, he could hear the musical trills and whistles and chirps of the Seekers’ native language. It sounded like there were a lot of them all trying to speak at once. His bond with Starscream was tight and tense with not-quite-perceivable emotions. 

  “Where’s Stormy?” Skywarp asked, suddenly fearful. “If you’ve hurt him-”

  “He’s here,” Optimus interrupted quickly. He turned and pointed into his collar fairing. “I would not harm a sparkling.” He more saddend than angered by the assumption. 

  Skywarp craned his neck until he spotted a glint of yellow plating. He relaxed into his seat and returned his attention to the outside. 

  Optimus sat still for a minute, wondering what the Seeker was thinking and monitoring Sunstorm’s exploration of his chassis. The whistling outside the hovercraft reached a fever-pitch before breaking into something less audial-glitching. There were only three or four voices Optimus could distinguish, and he was no expert on the Seekers’ language. Having never really heard Starscream speak it, he could not tell if any of the voices were his. 

  “So... “ Skywarp glanced nervously at Optimus. “You’re Prime.” He looked right back at the open door. 

  “I am.” Optimus picked a flake of dried energon off his pectoral plating. “I hear you teleport.”

  “Yeah.”

  They sat in silence. 

  “What’s it-”

  “How old-”

  They both broke off. 

  “You first.” Optimus tried to make optic contact with the Seeker. 

  Skywarp shook his helm. “Really shouldn’t,” he mumbled. 

  “I insist.” 

  The dark Seeker squished himself further into his seat and visibly bit his lips. Silence. 

  “I will not speak again until you ask you question. I am told I am very stubborn.” Optimus wished he could pick up Skywarp’s EM field from this distance. Politically, Starscream had decided Optimus was a mech could use, but he seemed unable to decide how  _ he personally _ felt about Optimus. As Skywarp was the least hostile of the trine, Optimus hoped to establish some sort of dialogue with him. In fact, all four of them would eventually be called by the new-forged bond. It was logical to attempt to smooth the transition. 

  “What’s it- What’s it like, not being a Warframe? I mean, like, a noble.” Skywarp’s curiosity won out over his stubbornness. He still wasn’t looking at Optimus, prefering to pick at his claws, but it was a start. 

  Optimus stroked the warm spot where Sunstorm had settled. “I don’t know, actually. I never lived in the Tower or the Palace.”

  Skywarp’s wings twitched in surprise. “But you’re Prime,” he said, as though that explained everything. And maybe it did, to him. 

  Optimus lowered his optics. “I was a dock worker before the Matrix chose me. By then, a lot of the Senate’s establishments had fallen. I never saw them.”

  “A dock worker?” Skywarp asked in surprise. “But Primes are nobles.”

  “The remaining Senators and their supporters were not all that pleased either,” he smiled. “Some of my Intelligence mecha think I’m the first Prime truly chosen by the Matrix in many generations.”

  Skywarp made a small sound of acknowledgement. Outside, one lilting voice broke through the others and rang proud and clear. Skywarp tilted his helm, listening. 

  “What’s going on?” asked Optimus. Because he was pretty sure that was Starscream speaking, and whatever he was doing would determine his future. 

  “Star’s trying to convince the senior trines to keep you.” Skywarp glanced at Optimus. 

  “What happens if they say no?” Optimus sounded smaller than he expected. Fear of the unknown unfurled a slender tendril in his chest. 

  Skywarp shrugged. “He’ll get demoted. Without the Winglord’s protection you won’t last long here.  _ And then me an’ TC’ll be left trying to keep Star alive while the Seekers fall apart.” _ The dark Flier muttered the last part, probably intending for it to be inaudible. 

  Optimus didn’t comment on it. He was busy chewing over this new information. Starscream had taken the Seekers from the Decepticons, but not to the Autobots. He hadn’t shot down the idea, indicating he might join at a later date -if Optimus could guarantee the Fliers’ safety. That future hinged on Starscream convincing his subordinates to give Optimus a chance. If it failed at this one critical juncture, the whole plan would break like supercooled steel. It took Optimus a second to wrap his processor around the enormity of it all. 

  So engrossed was he that he missed Skywarp’s jump to attention, the shaking of the hovercraft, and the soft murmur of voices at the entrance. 

  “Well, get up. I expect you’re tired.” Starscream materialized, beckoning impatiently for Optimus to follow him. Thundercracker and Skywarp framed him with their larger, darker forms. 

  “Everything went well?” asked Optimus, standing. He ducked out of the craft to trail after the three Seekers. The weak sun, its light compounded by the pale sand, dazzled his optics. When they adjusted, he halted in awe. 

  There were Seekers everywhere. Perched on buildings, soaring through the sky, prowling through the ruins. Their plating caught the light in a hundred different colours. The air was full of shill shrieks and pulsating warbles. 

  And then it wasn’t. Every optic and wing zeroed in on the central plaza of the roof. Dead silence descended upon the decimated town. The perched Seekers melted into the shadows, revealed only by their glowing optics. 

  “Optics  _ down,” _ hissed Starscream. 

  Optimus stalled a moment, taking in the gape-windowed buildings and the shattered civilization sheltering in them. Remembering Thundercracker’s outburst, he swallowed back words and lowered his helm. Words would not be enough to make amends for the wrongs cast upon these mecha. Actions were little better, for the Seekers had no reason to believe him. How was he to atone for the sins of his predecessors when he was one and they were many? The enormity of the task hit him, but he kept walking. For the greater good and the hope of a brighter future, he would try. He would try to be a mate, a leader, an example that his people -all of his people- could look up to without fear or shame. 

  Optimus didn’t look up, but he set his shoulders and followed Starscream into a building. 

 

~~~


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter jumps around a bit but it picks up at the end. I hope the flow isn't too jarring. Have fun!

“Blah” = Spoken dialogue

::Blah:: = Comm lines

_ “Blah” _ = Telepathy

_ Blah _ = Private thoughts

~Blah~ = Bonded talk

//Blah// = Sign Language

 

  All characters belong to their original creators. Only the writing itself is mine.

  
  


CHAPTER ELEVEN

 

  Starscream was asleep the sparkbeat his helm hit his crooked arm. No surprise, for he was exhausted and his painkillers were wearing off. It also wasn’t a surprise that he was woken mere hours later by the ghost of hands and bodies and  _ trapped/helpless/scared/hurt. _

  He jerked back, stopped by a flash of pain in his chassis. Swallowing a cry of pain, he lowered himself onto the wadded up blanket serving as his berth. He was on his nonexistent cockpit because he couldn’t sleep any other way, injuries or no. Sometimes he envied Skywarp’s ability to nod off in whatever position he wanted.

  “Nightmare?” Thundercracker appeared from the dark.

  “Frag it!” Starscream whisper/yelped. “Don’t sneak up on me!”

  Thundercracker blinked, red optics dim to let their roommates sleep. Skywarp was nearby, one wing sticking straight up. Two other trines, both seniors, shared this chamber. The Prime -Starscream quickly checked- was still curled up in his corner of isolation. He didn’t appear to have moved so much as a cable.

  “Was it-” Thundercracker crawled closer “-about him?”

  “Not sure.” Starscream rubbed his arms. ~Don’t talk where they can hear you.~ He indicated the six slumbering Seekers. He counted himself fortunate so many of his mecha had been convinced by his argument for the Prime. Starscream could hardly believe it himself. Him, facing down his own people to convince them to let a Prime live in their midst. Not only that, but let him be bonded to their Winglord. Sure, Starscream had changed a few details of the  _ personal situation _ to suit his purposes, but history was written by the storytellers. The hows and whys of the past didn’t matter; what mattered now was what he was going to do with the hand he was dealt. And if Starscream chose to play it to its maximum, so be it.

  ~What will you do if the Prime doesn’t play along?~ Thundercracker wedged himself under Starscream’s wing, frame solid and warm against his side. Outside, the wind picked up, whistling through the broken windows.

  ~He’ll cooperate. He’ll have no choice,~ Starscream answered grimly.

  ~You know I’ll support you in whatever you do.~ There was a ‘but’ hanging off the end of that statement like a scraplet on the last living metal in the world. Starscream twisted his helm so he could see Thundercracker with his remaining optic.

  Thundercracker sighed. ~I won’t ever trust him. And I hope you never do either. You know too well what his kind can do.~

  Starscream rested his chin on his arm. ~Yeah.~ He was quiet for a minute, listening to the low hum of recharging systems under the rising wind. ~I just… I really think this is the right thing to do. Things were getting worse under Megatron, but we didn’t have the power to strike out on our own. With the Prime, we might be able to broker a ceasefire with the Autobots. Pit, I’m his bondmate.~ Starscream snorted, gently because his olfactories were still delicate. ~If that can’t get us our own city-state, I don’t know what will.~

  ~The war has to end first,~ reminded Thundercracker.

  Starscream snorted again, this time in contempt. ~How long do you think Megatron will last without Fliers? Or against Fliers? We were his greatest advantage.~

  ~And processors,~ Thundercracker added. ~Don’t forget processors.~

  Starscream wiped away chemoreceptor fluid. ~He never used my genius anyway. I always had to go through Soundwave.~ Starscream wondered what would become of the cassette Carrier if -when- the Decepticons fell. As co-workers went, he could have been a whole lot worse. If not for his devotion to Megatron and annoying offspring, Starscream might have been able to tolerate him. Oh well. If he could drag Soundwave out of the ashes, he would. Maybe Knock Out too. He was a decent medic, for all his faults.

  ~TC?~ Starscream couldn’t stop the wobble in his voice.

  ~Yeah?~ Thundercracker answered, recharge muddled.

  ~Stay. Please. I don’t want to be alone.~ He leaned into Thundercracker’s side and tried not to imagine all the things that could go wrong.

  ~As you wish.~ Thundercracker overlapped their wings and spread his EM around his trineleader. Starscream leaned into the contact, suddenly aware of  _ how right _ it felt to have his bigger trinemate close beside him. He closed his optics and focused on the sensation of Thundercracker’s EM field, on the singing wind racing around the buildings. He tried  _ not _ to think about what would happen if the energon stores here were gone or contaminated, if the senior trines rebelled, if the Prime couldn’t be controlled.

  Starscream shifted toward his left side, cheek pressing into his arm. He crooked his elbow, careful of his splinted wrist, over his nasal ridge to protect it from the cold desert air. First thing in the morning, he was going to find some blankets.

 

~~~

 

  The building was cold and drafty during the dark cycle. The broken windows and crumbling walls let the wind moan through, sweeping out the light cycle’s heat. A particularly vicious howl startled Optimus out of recharge again. He coughed his vents and rolled over to face the sleeping Seekers.

  All nine curled together, their sharp edges glinting in the moons’ light. The twin satellites were low in the sky, beaming silver light through a row of smashed windows. The Seekers liked the ‘open air’ quality. During the light cycle, they could be seen swooping in and out like mercurygulls.

 Optimus was exiled to the corner furthest from the door. Though he couldn’t see a guard, he didn’t doubt that there were at least two pairs of optics fixed on him. He rolled onto his back and contemplated the cracked ceiling. His bunk at ‘home’ -whichever base he happened to be at when he crashed- was reasonably comfortable. Though he insisted on equal treatment, some mecha kept sneaking quality berthpads into his quarters. After the fifth time he carried one down to Medical, he returned to find another welded to his bunk. When Ironhide laughed off his plea for help, Optimus gave up.

  ...Pit, but he missed them. Optimus draped an arm over his face. He couldn’t sleep for all the worries in his helm, and the wind wasn’t helping either. It moaned mournfully among the buildings, wailing over open pipes, and whistling through wireline cracks. If he listened closely, sometimes he could hear the  _ shush-scrape _ of sand dunes walking, grain by grain. His imagination painted many-legged creatures crawling over The Wastes, hungry olfactories drawn to the scent of fresh energon.

  Optimus snorted at himself. The mechanimal that could sneak up on a flock of Seekers deserved some respect. Optimus rolled over again and read the name glyphs he had scratched into the wall.

_ Ratchet. Jazz. Prowl. Red Alert. Ironhide. Elita One. Ultra Magnus. _ The list went on. Optimus read every name, picturing their faces. It felt like months since he had last seen them, though he knew it had only been a few days. They were looking for him, he knew. And the Seekers’ desertion would be big news. But Starscream was right about the vast and treacherous Wastes. Grounders didn’t fare well in them.

  Starscream… Optimus scratched the Seeker’s name glyph above his list. What did the mech want? Rights and freedom for his people, obviously, but how was Optimus to show that  _ he _ would help in that quest? What would convince Starscream that he didn’t need to grab at every chance to manipulate the situation? Optimus was perfectly willing to cooperate with the Seeker, especially if it could bring the Fliers to the Autobots.

  Beyond politics, the Seeker was his mate; they were in this for the long haul. When he thought of his future, a brittle conniving bond was not what he wanted to see. It could end the war, he admitted, having the faction leaders bound in spark. But that peace would be as strained as their bond; no lasting harmony could be born of it.

  Optimus drifted into a fitful recharge, broken by the keening wind and the fluxes interwoven into the sound.

 

~~~

 

  Turns out Seekers woke up with the sun. Optimus was by no means a late sleeper, but he was startled out of what little recharge he had managed by a palm impacting his damaged side.

  “Ow!” he exclaimed, vocalizer garbled with static. He rolled over, wincing as the star’s light lanced into his optics, and squinted at the angular figure above him.

  Starscream made a sound of satisfaction. “Get up. There’s work to be done.” He turned away and left Optimus to roust himself. The Convoy did so as quickly as he could, shaking off the dregs of the dark cycle’s dreams. He could still feel the sensor ghost of wind under noncorporeal wings.

  The white and red Seeker waited in the doorway, pede tapping. The moment Optimus was standing, he pivoted on a toe and vanished down the stairs. Assuming he was to follow, Optimus trailed after him. He glanced toward the windows by which the rest of the Seekers had exited. A few were still flying in the golden air, their shadows flickering to and fro.

  Optimus quickened his pace to catch up with Starscream. “Just a moment, Starscream,” he called.

  The Seeker stopped on a landing, hip cocked and arms crossed. “What is it  _ now, _ Prime? Are you tired already?”

  Optimus stepped onto the landing, taking care not to get between Starscream and a speedy retreat. “What are your intentions?” he asked as bluntly as he could.

  Starscream raised his functional optic ridge, sneering. It was not a pretty effect with half his face patched and bandaged. “Why, Prime. I can assure you  _ my _ intentions are nothing but the purest. Seekers have a strict moral code, one which we enforce regardless of relative status. Violators are harshly punished.” Starscream inspected his claws. “We will have no more… dalliances than are absolutely necessary.”

  Optimus blinked. “What are your… plans?” he tried. “We are bonded-”

  “I know, pothole!”

  “-but what we make of it is our choice. I am sincere in my offer of aid to your people. I am not seeking a return to Functionalism.”

  Starscream grunted, then checked his nasal vent for bleeding. “I saw that in your processor.”

  “But you don’t believe me!” Frustration Optimus didn’t know he carried reared its helm. He reached out with his EM, trying to express his honesty. Back in the cell, he thought Starscream was swaying to his side. Now, that hope was crumbling like sand through his fingers.

  The Seeker stiffened, field reeling in. “I believe that you showed me something that I want very badly, and that you have reasons to want it too,” Starscream spat. “But I don’t trust that you’re doing it from the goodness of your spark.  _ That _ thing is too close to it.” Starscream jerked his chin at Optimus’s chest. Before the Convoy could ask what the Pit he meant, the Seeker had darted down the stairs.

  Optimus touched a hand to his cracked windshield. His spark hummed below the heavy armor; and above it the Matrix whispered snippets of song. Was the Seeker referring to the relic? The Matrix chose the Prime, and the Prime was the leader of the Senate. Primes and Senates of the past were responsible for the laws against Warframes.

  The current Prime exvented heavily. He had a lot of work ahead, and he wasn’t quite sure where to begin. The layers upon layers of distrust would take so much time to peel back. Optimus wanted to get out of range of Megatron, preferably to his Autobots, but Starscream was right. They -meaning the Seekers and himself- had to reach an equilibrium before they could return.

  “Are you lost up there?!” Starscream shouted. “Get your tail fins moving!”

 

~~~

 

  Starscream set the Prime to work moving crates of supplies up from the lower levels. It appealed to his sense of irony that the mech was back to his original function: hauling boxes. Following the Prime (because he couldn’t actually leave him unsupervised), Starscream noticed the… tolerance with which he trudged up and down the stairs. It rankled him. The blasted mech had probably been  _ happy _ with his assigned function. 

  Starscream threw back the lid of a crate with more force than necessary. Nearby Seekers startled at the bang.

  “Medical.” Starscream marked the box with white chalk so mecha assigned to medical could find it. He spotted one with a blue mark and pointed. “Get that, Prime.”

  The tall mech hefted the box and braced it against his hip like it was the most normal thing to do. Starscream curled his hands into fists to keep his claws away from red and blue plating. Instead, he flung open another box. Glitchmice fled, and the Seeker cursed.

  “What is it?” The Prime stood carefully still as one of the pests skittered past his pede.

  “If those menaces have gotten into the energon stores, I’ll hunt them down myself!” Starscream kicked over the crate, sending honeycombed metal sliding across the floor. A couple more glitchmice scampered deeper into the storeroom. “Primus, I never thought I’d miss Ravage…” Starscream tracked the mechanimals until they vanished into the haphazard stacks of boxes. “Frag it all.” He dragged a hand over his helm.

 

  The storerooms were a mess. If Starscream could remember who had been in charge of this stockpile, he’d shoot them. There was medical equipment mixed in with the munitions, datapads with blankets, welders with maps.

  As the Seekers took stock, reports of break ins -mechanimal and otherwise- flooded in. There were breaches to be sealed and cave ins to be cleared. Pipes were rusted and sand had flooded areas. Some of the windows, lovely though they were, needed to be secured.

  The long and short of it was, the old town needed a lot of work. It seemed like the only good news was that the energon stores were largely untouched, thanks to their tougher crates. Starscream still had to catalog every container himself, which took most of the day. The sun was low in the sky by the time he was done. He would have started building glitchmouse traps right then and there had Skywarp not arrived to physically drag him away.

  “I’m not tired!” Starscream shook the dark Seeker off and stomped away. Never _ mind _ that his hand and optic socket and chest hurt, or that his fuel gauge kept cropping up red. He dodged Skywarp’s grabbing hands and made for the exit.

  “That’s-” the Prime started to speak.

  “I’m not listening!” Starscream snapped. He slammed the door behind him -and blinked into total darkness. He looked around, optic lighting up the small room. This was a closet.

 

  Optimus stared at the door. “Did he just…?”

  “Yep.” Skywarp said, popping the ‘p.’

  “Why hasn’t…?”

  “Embarrassed.” Skywarp marched up to the door and knocked. “Hey, you gotta come give out our dark cycle assignments. The senior trines are ready.” He waited several seconds. Optimus watched with some fascination.

 “You can’t stay in there forever.” Skywarp tried reason.

  Silence.

  “I’m gonna get TC!” Threats now.

  The door remained shut.

  Skywarp rattled the knob. “C’mon Screamer! You hafta come out. I promise I won’t even tease you about this. I mean, we all get mixed up sometimes in a new place, and the door out’s right next to this one.” Skywarp resorted to bribery. When his trineleader remained unmoved, the dark Seeker gave up with a theatrical moan. “Okay, fine! I’ll just leave a cube outside every day. Should I tell TC he’s Winglord now? Or should we have a tournament or something?” Skywarp’s optics snagged on Optimus and he startled like he had forgotten the Convoy. He recovered quickly, and kept up his chatter as he stomped loudly away.

  “Fragging Pit, Skywarp. Can you be any louder?” The closet door swung open and Starscream swept out like a windstorm. He got a hand over Skywarp’s mouth before he could answer. The two Seekers stood there for a second -why, Optimus had no idea- then Starscream disengaged and stormed off.

  Optimus glanced at Skywarp in confusion, but he brushed past him without a word. With no other option, Optimus trailed after the two Seekers. His chestplates were itching again, and had been for the latter half of the light cycle. He didn’t want to bring it up, though. The work was fulfilling in a way that he had missed. Mindless labor helped clear his helm and focus his thoughts in a way unmatched by any meditation technique. 

  He needed a clear helm.

 

~~~

 

  Starscream left Skywarp to mind the Prime while he went to meet his senior trines. Thundercracker joined him, falling in step at his right shoulder and pushing an energon cube at him. The blue Seeker meshed the edges of their EMs in an attempt at support. The actual effect was more like a frightened turbopuppy trying to cuddle his equally nervous master during an electrical storm.

  ~You’re tense.~ Starscream tilted a wing to get more sensors on his trinemate, compensating for his missing optic. The blue Seeker was hiding it artfully, but his trineleader knew him far too well.

  ~You should be resting. Has Pharma looked at you yet?~ Thundercracker examined Starscream, optics lingering on his gait.

  Starscream scoffed. ~No thanks.~ He took a slow drink so as not to overwhelm his tank.

  Thundercracker pressed his digits to his forehelm to stave off a processor ache. ~Are you  _ still _ mad at him? The ‘paint job’ incident was literally years ago.~

  ~He called me a nurse!~ Starscream snarled. ~And ordered me around!~ The rational part of his processor reminded him that the medic had just finished a twenty-three hour surgery and probably wasn’t firing on all thrusters… but still! Not all red and white mecha were medics!

  Thundercracker lowered his hand to better implore Starscream. ~He’s our best medic.~ The blue Seeker darted ahead of Starscream to get the door. ~You’re not going to get better without one.~

  ~Then I’ll find another.~ Starscream lifted his nasal vent as he walked through the door.

  ~Who? The Autobot’s medic?~

  Starscream pretended to consider it. ~He does have a ‘capture, not kill’ on him.~

  Thundercracker halted with a growl of frustration. ~He’d sooner cut off his own arm than treat you!~

  ~Not when my -and our- health is intrinsically linked to his Prime’s,~ Starscream pointed out.

  ~You can’t fly,~ said Thundercracker.

  Starscream went silent. That was the crux of the matter, wasn’t it? He had brought his people to a dangerous land with the promise of change. He had told them of an alliance he was still forging. He had brought a mech of dark cycle terrors into their arrie. It was only a matter of time before he was challenged. Seekers flew; Seekers loved to fly. Given half a chance, many would never land. It was only natural for challenge matches to be carried out on the wing.

  ~Well?~ Thundercracker asked.

  ~...I’ll figure something out.~ Starscream wove around his trinemate and strode toward the designated Command Perch. Thundercracker followed in simmering silence.

  The Perch was aptly named. The Grounders who had built it used it as a patio, so it was open to the sky in all directions. The building’s last few floors sheltered it from the worst of the wind from the southwest, but the occasional gust from the west set fibrous rags all aflutter. Rusty and battered chairs and tables littered the floor. Tracks in the fine sand marked where Seekers had dragged the furniture into a passable semicircle. Only a few were sitting, and they stood when Starscream entered.

  “Winglord.” Acidstorm lifted his wings in greeting.

  “Acidstorm.” Starscream inclined his helm. “Are the seekerlets settling in?”

  “As well as can be expected. Sunstorm misses you.” The green Seeker sat, copied by his peers.

  A slight smile touched Starscream’s face as he joined them. He doubted he would ever understand why the occasionally-radioactive seekerlet was so attached to him. The only thing he could think of was some sort of hero worship. Sunstorm would probably have imprinted on whoever rescued him from that Pithole of a lab. It just happened to be Starscream.

  He pushed aside thoughts of the yellow seekerlet. “Bluefire, I want you to organize patrols. I don’t want anything more dangerous than a glitchmouse within fifteen miles of the town limits.” He waited for the safire femme to nod before moving to his next lieutenant.

  “Just a minute.” The voice came from behind, near the fire escape. The speaker probably hadn’t used it, for the stairway was rusty and decrepit.  _ Like a certain someone’s processor. _

  Starscream stared up at the smokey sky. “You want to do this now, Ramjet? Right now?” Slag it, Thundercracker was going to have a field day with this.

  “It beats waiting for Lord Megatron to hunt us down.” The conehead had his trine at his back, their intact plating glinting under the westerning sun.

  All too aware of the damaged condition of his own armor, Starscream stood and faced Ramjet. Thundercracker stepped into his place without being told. ~Get to the Perch Skywarp,~ ordered Starscream. ~Bring the Prime and don’t teleport.~ The dark Seeker would be useless if he arrived exhausted.

  “So you  _ want _ to go back to that despot and spend a fourth of your cycle pleasuring his army?” Starscream sensed the senior trines rising behind him. He wings went stiff. Surely they weren’t stupid enough to abandon him for  _ Ramjet _ of all mecha!

  “And you’d rather crawl to the Autobots?” sneered Ramjet. “I expected something smart when you said you had a plan.”

  When the senior trines didn’t move against him, Starscream canted his wings mockingly. “I’m  _ so sorry _ patience is beyond you. Do you need me to explain again? We’re camped out here until my bond stabilizes and the Prime can’t have it dissolved. Or are to trying to surrender the ground we’ve won?”

  “I didn’t realize you were so eager to go back to warming the Prime’s berth!” Ramjet’s mouth kept moving, but Starscream couldn’t hear through the roaring in his audials. His frame reacted before his processor tripped past a flood of sensations and sounds. The next thing he was aware of was Ramjet, jumping into the air and yowling out a passable challenge through his bloody lips. Starscream was running after him, toward the building’s edge, the next sparkbeat.

  “You can’t fly!” hissed Thundercracker, grabbing Starscream by the arm and bringing him up short.

  “Fragging  _ watch me.” _ Starscream yanked away and ignited his thrusters.

 

~~~


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heeeey, All! I know I've been quiet lately, but RL happened. I was on a family vacation for a while, and then as soon as I got back my laptop gave out. Luckily, ye old Chromebook still works!  
> Anyway, here's a new chapter!

“Blah” = Spoken dialogue

::Blah:: = Comm lines

_ “Blah” _ = Telepathy

_ Blah _ = Private thoughts

~Blah~ = Bonded talk

//Blah// = Sign Language

  All characters belong to their original creators. Only the writing itself is mine.

 

CHAPTER TWELVE 

 

  Thundercracker cringed in empathy at the awful noise his trineleader’s thrusters made. The tricoloured Seeker launched before they caught, vanishing off the roof in deafening silence. Unable to stop himself, Thundercracker raced to the edge along with every other Seeker within hearing distance.

  There were no Seeker-bits on the sandscape below, nor was there a pale shape making for the sky. Starscream’s anger, thrumming like a living thing, was undiminished in the bond.

  Ramjet circled the a nearby building once, the unfocused tilt of his wings betraying confusion. He banked toward the Perch, light catching the edges of his armor. Just as the Conehead was slowing to steer around the building, a figure exploded out of the lower levels. It latched onto Ramjet and didn’t let go, even when the Flier turned sharply up and spun.

  “What’s going on?” Skywarp grabbed Thundercracker by the vents, face tilted up at the twisting figures.

  “Ramjet challenged Scree.” Thundercracker took a step away from Skywarp’s red and blue shadow. The Prime was squinting, trying to calibrate his weak Grounder optics for the vast distances of the sky.

  “But he can’t even transform!” Worry made Skywarp sink his claws into his trinemate. “How’d he get up there?”

  Thundercracker untangled himself from Skywarp, using the motion to put more distance between himself and the Convoy. Regardless of his personal feelings towards the mech, they had to present a united front. Starscream’s fight in the sky wouldn’t mean much if the mecha on the ground decided to support Ramjet. Or another candidate. Probably another candidate. So Thundercracker didn’t make it obvious that just standing within sight of the Prime made his armor crawl.

  “Challenged?” The Prime directed the question at Thundercracker, making his plating shiver.

  “For his title.” Thundercracker kept his voice clipped and controlled. “Winglord.”

  “The leader of the Seekers.” The Prime frowned, optics turning back to the sky. Thundercracker looked up too. Ramjet had abandoned his twisting dance and turned his nosecone to the ground.

  “Holy Pit, that’s Jet Judo!” exclaimed Skywarp. There were winces and more than a few snickers from the observing Seekers. Ramjet’s trine, waiting on the rooftop, lowered their wings in mild embarrassment.

  ~Remember not to kill him,~ cautioned Thundercracker. This was a normal challenge, not a death match, but Starscream might not know that in his present state. The other Seeker’s frothing anger was his only response.

  A trail of smoke and sparks burst from one of Ramjet’s wings before the pair separated. The Conehead went down at the edge of the town. Starscream landed in a tumble a little further away. The observing Seekers winced and watched.

  The two partial trines held their vents in anticipation. Thundercracker could still sense Starscream, and the Coneheads weren’t raising a mourning keen, so Ramjet must be alive too. As he watched, Starscream rolled to all fours and shook sand off his frame.

  “Stay here Skywarp.” Thundercracker launched and transformed. He gave his thrusters a  _ pop! _ and coasted the rest of the way through the buildings. By the time he reached the other two, Starscream was on his pedes and storming towards Ramjet’s wriggling form.

  Thundercracker landed on the roof of a mostly buried building. “Starscream!” he shouted. If his trineleader killed Ramjet, there would be all sorts of ramifications. His hold on his title was fragile enough as it was.

  Starscream paused, helm turning towards Thundercracker. The fury mobbing his section of the bond faded back a wire-width.

  “That’s it Star,” Thundercracker said soothingly. “Tell him to surrender.” He nodded at Ramjet. The white Seeker had managed to shapeshift back to root, and sat in the sand with fear and hate boiling off him.

  Starscream downflicked his wings angrily. The bond narrowed to a sliver. Starscream resumed his march towards his downed opponent. A few drops of energon flecked off his reopened wounds, spattering to the sand.

  Thundercracker bit his lip. He knew he had done all he could, but Pit if he hated this ignorant waiting.

  Sand skidded into Ramjet’s face as Starscream halted a winglength away. His shoulders were tight, but when he spoke his voice was steady and clear. “Do you yield?”

  Thundercracker could have collapsed for relief.

  Ramjet spat sand out of his mouth. With hate in his optics, he met the Winglord’s stare. “I yield. Smelting pits take you for what you’ve done.”

  “Say it so they can hear you, and keep the insubordination to yourself,” Starscream ordered.

  Ramjet wrestled his legs out of the sand, ending up on his knees. “You’re one to talk about insubordination,” he growled.

  Starscream’s wings twitched warningly. “Do you yield or not?” he demanded, dentae clenched. Had he been armed, the whine of a null-ray would have accompanied the ultimatum.

  Thundercracker had to deny the ping his lasers sent him. “Give in, give in;  _ please _ give in,” he whispered. If Ramjet decided to fight on the ground, his healthier, heavier frame would put him at a serious advantage. Thundercracker hoped Ramjet was too slow to realize it.

  Ramjet’s faceplates twisted furiously. “Fine!” he shouted. “I yield!” The fight drained out of him and he slumped miserably.

  Wordlessly, Starscream straightened. He stepped past his defeated rival and strode back towards the town. The buildings were lined with the glittering frames of Seekers. Reflected light danced over the walls as their wings canted.

  Thundercracker rose, preparing to join his wingleader, when Ramjet surged to his pedes. The hum of a laser charging filled the air, overcast by the warning cry of a hundred voices.

  “Star!” Thundercracker kicked off the roof -and then there were rocks and sand and bits of metal all around him. Dark blotches, like the fastest storm clouds in the world, flashed across his vision. Roaring and rushing filled his audials as something hit his back. Static burst from his vocaliser and sand filled his mouth. Terrible  _ pressure _ and  _ closeness _ crowded in from every side.

  Thundercracker lashed out, thrusters igniting. Panic flooded from the trinebond, compounding his own fear.  _ The roof, _ he though numbly.  _ The roof gave way. _ Dirt and rock blotted out the last sliver of light. Thundercracker felt his leg catch in something -it snapped the rest of his body downward and into a hollow. Before he could fear the fall, his leg slid loose and his helm and wrists hit the floor.

  Debris rained down around him. Bigger bits cracked on the floor and  _ tink _ ed off his armor. Thundercracker curled up in a ball, hands over his helm, and lost himself in blind terror.

_ Underground/closed/trapped/nosky/noskynoskyNOSKY! _

  He was almost grateful when a metal beam struck his helm and turned off his thoughts.

 

~~~

 

  “Primus NO!” Skywarp cupped his hands over his mouth. Purple swirled around him, opening up into the nothingness of subspace -then he was sprinting across the sand. He tackled Ramjet, throwing his shot wide. Without looking where it went, Skywarp set in on the Conehead.

  “Coward! Glitch ridden! Weak-winged!” The two rolled over and over in the sand. Skywarp came up on top and blasted a thruster into the Conehead’s wing. Ramjet howled and dug his claws into Skywarp’s chest. Skywarp didn’t even register the pain. He swung his fists, not caring where they hit so long as they hit Ramjet.

  “Slag-faced little pile of misfiring motherboards! Underclocked trash compactor!” Skywarp barely knew what he was saying. Thundercracker’s  _ terror/trapped/help _ had vanished into  _ static/nothing _ and it was this mech’s fault.

  “Skywarp. Skywarp!” Someone grabbed his shoulder vents.

  “Get off me!” The teleporter shook the hands away and brought both fists down on the yellow cockpit under him. It only cracked, but another hit shattered it into tiny knives. The howl of pain that accompanied it was sweet as a morning breeze.

  ~Skywarp,  _ STOP.~ _

  Cables freezing up, Skywarp stared at Ramjet’s bloody face. The Conehead wheezed nervously, opticking him through cracked lenses.

  “TC?” Skywarp stood, panting, and stumbled to Starscream’s side. He felt cold inside. 

  “He fell.” Starscream pointed. Seekers were already gathering around the protruding corner of metal. Others, afraid to land, circled the site from above.

  “He’s alive,” stated Skywarp. “I’ll ‘port down and grab ‘im.”

  Starscream grabbed his arm. “You’ll put a rock through your spark chamber! We have to dig him out.”

  “But -underground.” Skywarp’s voice cracked. Thundercracker was a terrible, buzzing silence in the bond. It was open, but no one was home. Skywarp would have prefered the absolute panic and primitive incomprehension of the first few seconds to  _ this. _

  Starscream squeezed Skywarp’s arm. “We’ll get him,” he promised.

  “Oh my Primus, how? What if he’s hurt? What if he offlines before we can find him?” Skywarp cupped his hands over his mouth again. His breath was hot from his fast-working processor and warp drive.

  “Breath. Skywarp, breath.” Starscream wrapped his arms around his shaking trinemate so he could feel his steadier vents. “Breath with me. I need you to calm down. We  _ will _ get him out.”

  Skywarp gulped in a few breaths. The temperature warnings blinked to orange, then yellow, then faded all together. “Okay. I’m okay.” He pushed lightly at Starscream, wanting to get closer to the sinkhole.

  Starscream released him, optics searching.

  Skywarp invented and exvented again, just to prove he was alright. “See? ‘M fine.”

  The white and red Seeker watched him a moment more. “Stay with me,” he ordered, turning towards the anxious crowd. It parted before them, letting them join Bluefire at her safety perimeter.

  “It’s not good,” she said without being prompted. “The sand is still filling in.” And if he was buried too long, Thundercracker could overheat fatally. Or sand could get into his processor. And that was just what the prison would do to him physically.

  Starscream didn’t answer. Instead, he stared down at the dark hole that had consumed his trinemate. His scans didn’t penetrate the ground very far -a fact which he didn’t know whether to bless or curse. Aside from the crumbling corner, he couldn’t see the buried building, but he also didn’t have to see Thundercracker’s trapped frame. Starscream shut down that line of thought and cast about for a solution.

  “A couple trines-” Starscream pointed back towards the town “-get some flat panes of metal and start scraping the sand away. As far as you can. Everyone not moving sand, go back to the arries. Don’t land on anything you don’t know is safe.” Before he finished speaking, a dozen mecha had launched. As the crowd thinned, Starscream spotted the Prime’s tall build at the edge of town. He was hanging back hesitantly, but when he saw Starscream looking at him, started walking across the sand.

  Noticing more than a few nervous glances at the Prime, Starscream sigh/snarled to himself. “I’ll deal with this,” he grumbled to anyone close enough to hear. It made his chest hurt, but he forced a trot out of his abused frame and met the Prime before he got past the outermost buildings.

  “What happened?” asked the mech. His EM pulled frettingly at Starscream’s, full up with  _ concern _ and  _ offer/help. _ That lying brow wrinkle between his ridges made Starscream want to rip his faceplates off until no one would even be fooled by his innocent sparkling optics again.

  “It’s none of your business,” he spat, hoping his tone could express what his claws could not. He was expecting the usual  _ hurt/indignation/dismay _ the Convoy liked to project when he was shot down. The  _ frustration/impatience _ that coloured his teek was startling, to say the least. Without realizing it, Starscream took a step back.

  “I’m  _ tired _ of being blocked out of everything!” exclaimed the Prime. Hands squeezed into fists, he cast his optics skyward as though the answers were there. “I’m trying to do my part and communicate with you so we can end this war, but I can’t  _ accomplish _ anything while you’re fighting me every step of the way.” The Prime forced the tension out of his hands and opened them imploringly. “I genuinely want to help improve your people’s situation. If you cannot believe that I have no ulterior motive, then believe that I stand to  _ gain _ a great deal from winning your trust.”

  “Thundercracker fell!” Starscream snapped, pointing furiously at the sunken building. “He  _ fell _ and he’s stuck underground and if I can’t get him out he’ll -he’ll-” Starscream broke off, vents heaving, as pain flared through his chest. “Fragging  _ pit _ and you can’t help with that.” He stared sightlessly at the sand as he struggled to get his breathing under control. The air tasted like dry minerals and electrical charge.  _ A dust storm. That’s the last thing we need. _ Starscream was startled from his frantic processing by a large hand on his shoulder.

  “Wha’?” He startled a half step back, but the strong security offered by the EM field called to his ragged field.

  The Prime looked down -but not condescendingly- at him, blue optics serious. “I have grapples,” he said, turning a forearm over to show the mounts. “Could they be of use?”

  Hesitantly, Starscream reached out and turned the Prime’s arm to get a better look at the grapples. They looked like they had been been part of the Convoy’s frame for a very long time. The Seeker swallowed. “Yeah. Yeah, I’ve got an idea.”

 

~~~

 

  Optimus shook the post to triple check its stability. Skywarp had teleported it directly into the sand where it had intersected some buried object. It seemed strong enough, but Optimus would rather not risk three lives anymore than he had to.

  “Is it in good?” asked Skywarp. The dark Seeker slumped on his pedes, drained from teleporting such a large object. A pale blue Seeker hovered at his shoulder fretfully.

  “I believe so,” Optimus answered. He released a grapple and wound it around the post. With another experimental tug, he backed up towards the hole.

  The dark cycle had brightened the stars to glittering gems in the sky. Without the radiation of their star, Cybertron’s thin atmosphere was swiftly losing heat. The cold bit into Optimus’s plating with enough ferocity to make him shiver. He hoped the sand was insulating Thundercracker enough to spare him hypothermia.

  “Here.” Optimus handed his other grapple to the mottled green Seeker from the nursery. Acidstorm, his memory supplied after a moment. One of the best parts of Prime programming was the facial recognition software.

  Acidstorm reached for the grapple warily. Despite his earlier bravery in forcing Starscream to stand aside (the smaller Seeker had wanted to go in after his trinemate) his yellow optics were afraid. When their digits accidentally brushed, the  _ terror/dread/determination _ crashed over Optimus like a tsunami. Both mechs winced and jerked back.

  Acidstorm flicked his wings and tried to reel in his field. “Sorry,” he mumbled as he tried to take the grapple again. This time, they managed to pass it without touching, but Optimus locked the pulley mechanism for a second.

  “It is a good plan,” he said, when the green Seeker turned startled optics to him. “It will work.” He frowned when the Seeker looked away, something like guilt and  _ hide/shame _ turning his EM the flavour of cold iron. Optimus prodded curiously in search of the root of this creeping feeling.

  He found it -in the usual place. Optimus’s shoulders drooped wearily. “I will not purposely sabotage the rescue effort. No one deserves to die alone and afraid.” He reached out with his EM to impress upon Acidstorm his sincerity.

  Acidstorm looked up quickly, wings lifting in surprise. Optimus gave a gentle, regretful smile and released the grapple. The green Seeker’s wings flick-twitched with uncertainty, then he backed up and turned towards the sunken building.

  Grimy searchlights mounted on nearby towers threw three, four shadows from every mecha’s pedes. They were thin and washed out against the stark white sand. Like marshlights, they flitted constantly as though to lure travellers off the road.

  Optimus watched his shadows from the corner of his optics. It looked like he was driving a leashed mech in front of him. Or, if he blinked a few times, like a mech was leading him by a cuffed wrist. He spotted another set of shadows approaching. By the tug in his spark, it was Starscream and Skywarp.

  “Starscream.” When he turned, sure enough, it was the Air Commander and his trinemate/crutch. Distantly, he noted that the Seekers working around the hole had stopped to watch them.

  “Prime.” Starscream inclined his helm in greeting. “Don’t you think this is close enough?” he asked, nodding at the hole.

  Optimus judged the distance. “I suppose so.”

  “That isn’t very comforting.” Acidstorm’s voice was a strained peep.

  Starscream glared. “You’re the one who  _ volunteered,” _ he sneered.

  Unfazed, the green Seeker raised his wings. “Your frame would fall apart if you tried this.”

  The white and red Seeker snarled, plating bristling, but Skywarp intervened before a full argument could break out. “C’mon Star. Let them go.” He tugged his trineleader away. Starscream was plainly unwilling, but he was no match for Skywarp’s intact -if tired- frame.

  Optimus took a deep breath and faced Acidstorm. “Are you ready?”

  The Seeker took a long look at the dark, star-studded sky. The River of Sparks was rising over the distant ruins of Kaon. “No use delaying,” said Acidstorm as he wrapped the grapple’s cord around his waist and hooked it onto itself. “Two pulls mean more slack. Three mean pull me out. Just in case comms give out.”

  “Understood.” Optimus nodded gravely. He disengaged the lock on his right arm grapple to let Acidstorm move freely. The Seeker lifted his helm and walked the few paces to the hole. In the thirty? forty? minutes since Thundercracker had fallen, the sand had been scraped flat all around a crumbling corner. Acidstorm stopped at the mouth and peered in. He turned, taking a last look at someone in the onlooking crowd. Then he wound the cable around his hand and turned to rappel into the collapsed building.

  Optimus partially locked his right arm to lower Acidstorm slowly. The Seeker wasn’t that heavy, not for grapples and mounts built for stabilizing massive shipping blocks. Still, he was lowering blindly. He didn’t want to drop the Seeker on some obstruction. 

  ::Stop!:: exclaimed Acidstorm. ::I’ve hit something.:: The Seekers listening in leaned forward with anticipation. ::It’s… sand. There’s sand and metal debris.::

  ::Thundercracker should be right under the hole,:: said Starscream. ::Can you see him?::

  ::Not yet.:: Acidstorm’s tone indicated he was moving something heavy. No sooner had he spoken than his weight slammed onto Optimus and he locked his grapple with a gasp.

  ::Are you alright?:: Optimus asked urgently. He could feel the slight shift in the cable as the Seeker swung from it. 

  ::Fine! Fine.:: Acidstorm must had grabbed something because he stopped moving. ::Part of the floor gave way. Lower me slowly.::

  ::Is Thunder there?:: asked Starscream. Optimus glanced towards the white and red Seeker. He was seated with Skywarp wrapped restrainingly around him.

  ::I don’t know.:: Acidstorm’s weight vanished and he called for a little slack. Silence filled the still air for innumerable sparkbeats. The River of Sparks rose higher above the horizon. Chill wind lifted fine dust from the ground and deposited it on the waiting mecha.

  ::I found him!:: Acidstorm exclaimed. Optimus heard a breath of relief from the waiting Seekers. ::He’s… he’s pinned under a beam. I don’t think I can get him out,:: panted Acidstorm.

  Starscream made an effort to wriggle free of Skywarp. ::Try harder or I’ll come down after you!::

  Optimus glanced at the injured Seeker. ::Acidstorm, can you attach my grapple to the beam?:: he asked.

  ::I think so.:: There was a pause while he moved the grapple. ::It’s on.::

  Optimus nodded, forgetting briefly that Acidstorm couldn’t see him. ::I’ll lift it until you can get Thundercracker out, then lower it back into place. Understood?::

  ::Understood. I’m ready.::

  ::Lifting.:: Optimus started retracting his right arm grapple. The cable pulled tight as the weight hit him between the shoulders. He braced his legs against the pull, straining to pull the cable through the locking mechanism that would keep it from unspooling. Arms trembling, he retracted it inch by slow inch. Though he didn’t have much sensation in the cable or grapple, he could feel the mounts and intricate pulleys in his arms burning.

  ::Hold it there!:: ordered Acidstorm. Optimus pulled another inch, then let the locking mechanism take the worst of the strain. His vents kicked in, blasting hot air away from his legs and shoulders. The sand was treacherously shifty underpede. The tremor in his arms carried along the cables, making them quiver like a lyreharp’s string.

  ::I have him,:: commed Acidstorm. ::Put the beam back.  _ Slow.:: _

  There was a rustle of relaxing armor from the anxious crowd. Optimus didn’t think much on what they said for he was busy unspooling his cable as slowly as possible. It was a welcome relief when the beam settled back into place and the line went slack. It moved and wiggled as Acidstorm secured himself, then commed to be lifted.

  Optimus inhaled and braced himself. The moment his started reeling the line in, he discovered that Thundercracker added a lot of weight to it. Either that, or Optimus was more tired than he thought. It could be either or both, he decided, because he hadn’t used his grapples since becoming Prime.

   He estimated the drop was no more than one and a half body lengths -more, for the shorter Seekers. Judging by the amount of cable he had retracted, the two Seekers should be near the surface now. Sure enough, Acidstorm commed for someone to come over and help him maneuver Thundercracker through.

  Just as a pair of Seekers started to approach the hole, the post slipped. Optimus swung his helm around in time to see it come uprooted and lean, loomingly, towards him. The sudden loss of his anchor yanked him forwards and out of the falling post’s path, but also dragged him across the sand.

  Optimus kicked out, catching his pede on the side of the sunken building just a few mechanometers away from the hole. His knee crumpled and bashed against the side and would have let him tumble onward except a pair of hands seized his shoulders. They pinned him to the sand, thrustered pedes scrabbling on either side of his chassis.

  Optimus squeezed his optics closed to keep the sand out. All he could smell was the crisp electric and energon smell of Seeker. All he could feel was the slight swing of the two mechs on the end of his grapple. His comm and audials were full of Seekercant, whistling and jabbering with frantic energy.

  Another set of hands pressed into his chassis, soon joined by the full weight of a Seeker draped across his legs. His knee twinged painfully and he tried to find a pedehold for the other one.

  “Stop wriggling! For sparks’ sake…” Starscream was in his audial all of a sudden.

  Optimus stilled his leg, pede half buried in the sand. “What should I do?” he asked. He didn’t dare open his optic shutters. One grain of sand could scratch his lenses or lodge somewhere so deep surgery was the only way to get it out. Thundercracker was going to be in bad shape.

  “We’ve got you. Keep pulling Acidstorm and Thundercracker back up.” Hands with a familiar EM pressed into Optimus’s collar fairing. The Prime pulsed  _ acknowledgement/compliance _ at Starscream and started reeling his cable in again.

  The Seekers holding him down groaned and shifted. Someone draped himself over Optimus’s pelvic span and dug narrow claws into his injured knee. He sucked in a breath at the jolt of pain. He was almost surprised when the claws slackened and moved to the insensitive tires in his lower leg. The consideration was unexpected from a person so wronged by his ilk.

  “We got them!” shouted a distant Seeker. The crowd on top of Optimus relaxed, but he had already known from the slackening of his grapple line. He struggled upright at the Seekers untangled themselves and scampered away. Their EMs were bright with  _ worry/excitement/anxiety, _ and Optimus could hardly fault them for wanting to keep their distance. Still, he would have appreciated some help with his optics and knee. With blunt fingers, he picked delicately at his optic sockets.

  “You’ll blind yourself.” An unfamiliar voice precluded a hand batting away Optimus’s efforts to clear his optics. Then he didn’t dare move because there were sharp claws dancing through his faceplates. By virtue of their thin shape, the claws made short work of the sand. Soon Optimus was blinking cleanser across his optics and looking into the pale blue-grey faceplate of his helper.

  The Seeker jumped to his pedes and took a step back, but he didn’t run. He was the same one who had been hanging around Skywarp not long ago. Light blue and white plating was washed flat by the stark searchlights.

  “Thank you,” Optimus rumbled as he experimentally probed his knee. It wasn’t bleeding, but dented plating was compressing the joint and causing his pain.

  The Seeker’s wings twitched with something other than nervousness. “Are… Are you hurt bad?” he asked.

  Optimus shook his helm as he bent his plating back into shape. A tiny bit of energon oozed from the stress lines. “No. Is Thundercracker…?” He stood carefully and tested his leg.

  The blue Flier shrugged abashedly. “I don’t know. Acid’s okay though.”

  Something in the way he spoke of the mottled Seeker struck a chord in Optimus. “You are Icestorm, are you not? Acidstorm’s trinemate?” He remembered the name from the nursery.

  Icestorm’s wings shot up in surprise. “Yes! Though, we’re not trine, not exactly, not yet. We don’t have a third.” The Seeker wrung his hands nervously.

  Optimus nodded as he filed away the information. “Shall we see how they are faring?” he inquired, nodding towards the knot of mecha surrounding Thundercracker. Just directing his attention in Starscream’s direction make his spark pulse painfully against its chamber. He winced, pressing a hand to his chestplates.

  Icestorm bounded off with a wide opticked backward glance. Optimus followed more slowly, trying to wade through all the emotions boiling around Starscream. The Seeker probably had no idea how much he was projecting. He was caught up in cleaning Thundercracker’s still frame, oblivious to the mecha clustered around him.

  “Starscream.” Optimus dropped to his good knee beside the Seeker and put a hand on his shoulder. “Let someone with both hands help.”

  The injured Seeker flinched away, optics round and staring. Optimus enmeshed their EMs, smoothing the jagged places where anxiety made Starscream’s thin. Almost reluctantly, the tension faded from his frame.

  “Alright,” Starscream muttered. He heaved himself to his pedes, using Optimus as a crutch. “Skywarp, get him to the Med center. I’ll be along shortly.”

  Optimus stood with Starscream and hovered behind him, in case he stumbled. He didn’t; instead he limped to Acidstorm and flared his wings authoritatively. The green and olive Seeker looked up, twinned by his fussing not-quite-a-trinemate.

  “... You should come to the Med center too. You’re probably got sand places not even Icestorm knows about.” The words were harsh but the tone and teek were uncharacteristically subdued. Optimus realized he was witnessing a thank you.

  “Of course, Winglord.” Acidstorm moved to stand, but Starscream stuck his good hand out, palm up. The green Seeker blinked once, surprised.

  “Well?” Starscream beckoned impatiently.

  Acidstorm took the offered hand and levered himself up. Icestorm had to push under his wings because Starscream was small and not in particularly good shape, but the gesture was still there. Both Seeker faced each other for a moment, clasping each other’s wrists.

  Acidstorm disengaged first by dipping his helm. Starscream’s wings perked as he turned back towards the town. Acidstorm, with Icestorm close behind him, fell in step behind him.

  Optimus wondered just what sort of interaction that was. Did helping another up like that have some special meaning in the Seeker’s culture? Or was it a Starscream thing?

  “Optimus!” Starscream shouted. “Are you  _ trying _ to get eaten? Get over here before the scorpioids smell your missing survival programming!”

  The Prime glanced across The Wastes. They were still and dark beyond the searchlights. If he looked long enough, he could almost imagine there were ripples moving in the sand.

  At that moment, someone switched the lights off. Optimus raced after the Seekers so fast, he was caught up with them before he realized that was the first time Starscream had used his real name.

 

~~~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A terminology note, the celestial body referred to as 'The River of Sparks' is what we call the Milky Way.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> College is in full swing and I've barely had a chance to breath! Whew! Have a nice fun chapter and please, enjoy.

All characters belong to their original creators. Only the writing itself is mine. 

 

“Blah” = Spoken dialogue

::Blah:: = Comm lines

_ “Blah” _ = Telepathy

_ Blah _ = Private thoughts

~Blah~ = Bonded talk

//Blah// = Sign Language

 

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

 

  Starscream sat slowly on one of the improvised medberths and leaned on Skywarp. Not far away, Pharma used a damp cloth to wipe the sand off Thundercracker’s exterior. The medic kept twitching his wings as the fine powder settled on his pedes.

  Optimus sat tiredly against a wall, amusing Sunstorm with a mirror fragment. Starscream pretended he wasn’t miffed that the seekerlet had snubbed him. Normally, it was  _ his _ cockpit Sunstorm couldn’t wait to recharge in.

  He fidgeted again. His spark had begun acting up halfway through the light cycle, urging him to refresh the young bond. He had ignored it in the irrational hope that it would take the hint and go away. It hadn’t worked all that well. Though the crisis with Thundercracker had pushed it to the side, it was back now -and it brought friends.

  The insides of his undamaged chestplates itched. It would probably be worse if he had more in the way of functional plating there. Still, Starscream pressed his fists into his thighs to keep them from scratching. The  _ other _ irritant was a more frustrating one. His dual valves had added their voice to the primitive chorus of coding in another attempt to get him to interface with his mate.

_ That’s what I get for waiting so long. _ Starscream curled his toeplates as he tried not to grind his exposed array against the table.

  Skywarp shifted uncomfortably. ~You might want to take care of that,~ he advised awkwardly. ~I think Pharma’ll be busy for awhile.~

  Starscream snarled softly. ~I won’t whore myself out of gratitude for his help!~

  ~So tell ‘im that.~ Skywarp motioned with his optics towards an unoccupied room with a door. ~He’s feeling it too.~

  ~Your powers of observation never cease to astound,~ Starscream snarked.

  Skywarp pushed him off the berth. ~I’ll tell you if anything changes.~

  The smaller Seeker distractedly patted Skywarp’s knee before approaching Optimus. His spark surged almost-painfully the moment he moved closer. Both mechs winced, optics meeting.

_ Follow me. _ Starscream motioned towards the side room with his helm. Favouring his left knee, Optimus stood.

  “Ahps!” exclaimed Sunstorm, little arms reaching up at Optimus. “Ahps, ahps!”

  Optimus knelt immediately, letting the seekerlet latch onto a digit. “I have to go with your leader for a little while, but I will come back and visit you later,” he told Sunstorm solemnly.

  Sunstorm turned his wise gold optics to Starscream for a second. Then he looked back at Optimus and nodded seriously. Without another word, he darted off. Optimus watched him go, helm tilted. Starscream could teek a wistful sort of curiosity in the edges of his EM.

  “Come along,” the Seeker ordered, turning towards the room. He heard the Convoy’s heavy pedesteps as he followed.

  Starscream slid the door shut once they were both in. It didn’t look like the medical staff had gotten around to cleaning this room yet. There were a few crates and gurneys, as well as a whole lot of dust. Something, perhaps a turbofox, had made a nest here seasons ago. The debris from it were concentrated in the far left corner.

  “Well.” Starscream put his hands on his hips. This was hardly an ideal place to expose his innermost workings.

  Optimus rolled a gurney back and forth experimentally. “The bond calls,” he rumbled.

  Starscream agreed with a grunt. “Move that berth to the middle of the room and dust it off.” He paced anxiously while Optimus complied. Starscream swept his optics over the mech’s red and blue frame. Optimus was dusty and dented and in desperate need of an oil bath, or at least a shower. Sand grated in his joints, forcing him to move more slowly. Still, Starscream mused, he wasn’t a hopelessly clumsy groundpounder. If Starscream ended up carrying -which was likely, given his frametype and bonded status- he should be able to give it wings by getting donations from his trine.

  Starscream huffed at his own thoughts. Now was hardly the time to be thinking about actually producing offspring. With the Autobot situation so tense… No. It didn’t bear thinking about. Besides, he had Sunstorm to raise.

  The Convoy finished fussing with the gurney. Standing beside it, he looked to Starscream. “Do you… prefer top or bottom?” he asked. A flush of energon crept into his cheeks.

  “Top.” There wasn’t a position clean of memories, but top would give him more control. He could leap away and escape if the need arose. 

  Optimus climbed carefully onto the gurney, limbs wobbling as it rolled a little. “How is this going to work?” he asked with no small amount of concern.

  Starscream smirked. “We’ll just utilize the breaking mechanism,” he said, tripping the wheel locks.

  “Oh.” Optimus peered down at the wheels.

  Starscream hopped onto the gurney in front of Optimus. “Sit in the middle and lean back,” he ordered. Once there was space at the front, he pushed Optimus down with one hand. His heavy chestplating practically vibrated with the  _ thrumm _ of his spark. Starscream felt his own chamber jump towards his throat.

  There was warmth radiating off the Convoy’s interface array, so Starscream didn’t waste time. He pressed his fingertips to his spike housing and rubbed a slow line up and down.

  Optimus squirmed, legs tensing, but his secondary panel remained closed. Starscream kept at it for a minute, even using a few techniques he knew, but their mixed EM fields just grew more and more frustrated. Impatient, Starscream tried a different trick. He reached lower and circled the Convoy’s dry valve. 

  Surprised pleasure snapped through his field. Optimus jerked part way up, one leg kicking out. It caught Starscream in the midsection and knocked him clear off the gurney.

  “Hey!” White sparks exploded across Starscream’s vision. “What the frag is wrong with you?” He struggled upright, feeling around his chest for bleeding.

  Optimus’s blue audials and optics appeared over the edge of the gurney. “Are you alright?” he asked. “I didn’t intend to move so suddenly. I was… startled.”

  “Obviously.” Starscream heaved himself to his pedes with a wince. “What’s the matter with your libedo? The last Prime couldn't've kept it closed if his life depended on it.” He clambered back onto the berth and shoved Optimus’s pedes out of kicking range.

  “Careful!” One of his legs fell all the way off and he flailed, trying to regain his balance. It was in vain. Optimus toppled off and his other leg brought Starscream with him. They landed in a tangle, Starscream pinned between Optimus’s legs. The gurney fell with a crash mere inches from their bodies.

  “Get off!” Starscream shoved away. His hand hit between the Convoy’s legs, prompting the most undignified yip he had ever heard. The bigger mech lifted his leg, releasing Starscream, and scooted away. 

  The white and red mech sat up with a snarl. “This is awful! I’ve haven’t had this much trouble since the last time Sentinel was too overcharged to open his own panel!” Starscream slammed his fists into the floor.  _ Primus, _ but his valves felt like they were trying to wrap around each other!

  Optimus lowered his optics,  _ apology/guilt _ creeping into his field. “I am afraid the fault may be mine,” he said quietly.

  Starscream curled his lip at him. “What? Last  _ I _ saw your spike hadn’t been surgically removed and replaced with a valve.”

  The Convoy shifted, as though his array was causing him some discomfort. “I am not a particularly amorous person, and when I do engage in intercourse I am usually on the receiving end.” Optimus shrugged helplessly. “I prefer my valve to my spike.”

  Starscream squinted at Optimus. “So you’re a valve mech. Why, in Primus’s name, didn’t you  _ say _ so?” At least it meant that Optimus was unlikely to want his spike orally serviced. Starscream doubted he would be able to keep his fuel down if it came to that. Or resist the urge to  _ bite. _

  Optimus shifted again. “I was hoping to avoid the problem until it was less… urgent. I am also aware of a certain stigma in Towers culture.”

  “None of that lot ever wanted to do anything but spike. Ignorant irrational little glitches.” Starscream fiddled with the bandage around his bad hand. That stupid stigma was why Towers pleasurebots were modified to have two valves. None of the nobles wanted a lowly Warframe spiking them. Plus they couldn’t find any of their own caste willing to ‘sub’ for them.

  Starscream’s spark pulsed hard in his chest. It hurt and made his frame curl around his core. “Fragging bonds,” he muttered.

  Optimus rumbled something that teeked of agreement. “Shall we try again?” he asked.

  “Fine,” Starscream sighed. “Berth or not?”

  Optimus gave the overturned gurney a skeptical look.

  “Yeah, I thought so.” Starscream rolled to a crouch and closed the short distance between himself and Optimus. He pushed lightly on his chest, urging him to lie back. Now that he knew what he was doing, Starscream circled the Convoy’s valve cover confidently. It  _ snick _ ed away quickly.

  Starscream slipped a digit in -and stopped dead. He blinked once, twice; then sat back to examine his find with his one optic.

  “Grounder, are you aware that you have a seal?”

  “What?” Optimus sat up fast and tried to fold in half. His helm collided with Starscream’s with a  _ clunk. _

  The Seeker yelped in pain as he rocked back.

  Optimus didn’t look up from his efforts to bend his spine into new and creative positions. “I am absolutely positive I do not have a seal. I remember -” He stopped with a start. “Where did that come from?”

  Starscream seated himself crosslegged. It seemed like they were going to be here a while. “When’s the last time you checked?” he inquired cheekily.

  Optimus frowned without stopping his inspection of his own array. “Not since before I was made Prime. There was not time for anything after that.”

  “Well, there you have it. A full reformat like that usually includes seals.” Starscream leaned his elbows on his knees. “As entertaining as watching you self-serve is, we did come in here for a different reason.” He snickered at how fast Optimus pulled his hands away from his array.

  “But, how is that going to work?” Optimus gestured at Starscream’s array. “I mean no offense, but I would rather not -”

  Starscream rolled forward and planted a hand on Optimus’s face. “Lie back. I know how to work around seals.” He draped himself over the Convoy’s broad frame and ran his fingers through the seams. Optimus was probably having trouble because he was nervous. Once he stopped  _ thinking _ so hard, things would get moving.

  “You want to start with sparks?” asked Optimus. Hesitantly, he returned the chest-and-back touches with his blunt digits.

  Starscream flexed his wings. “Why not? It should sort out the other stuff.” He rocked his hips meaningfully.

  Optimus flushed all the way up to his audial finals. “I would say that that has never happened before, but mecha tend to assume large mechs prefer…” he trailed off as Starscream parted his chestplates. The spark within reflected brightly off his helm and filled the air with the slight odor of heat. Suddenly, Starscream realized he  _ liked  _ the expression of awed innocence on Optimus’s face. The revenant respect was certainly the correct response to seeing a spark as beautiful as his.

  The Convoy’s spark wasn’t half bad, once that golden maze of lies and secrets was out of the way. It was blue and slow burning, unlike the vibrant Seeker sparks Starscream was familiar with. He retracted his claws so he could caress the edge of the closed crystal.

  Optimus just about wriggled out of his own armor with a note of surprise. His crystal irised open and a blast of hot air escaped his vents. Something familiar nosed at the join of Starscream’s torso and leg.

  “Well,” he said, and that was as far as he got. The hilarity of the whole situation consumed the snarky comment on the tip of his glossa and transformed it into peals of laughter. This -this Prime was such a virgin! Starscream never thought he would put the words ‘Prime’ and ‘unsullied’ in the same sentence. Yet here he was, bonded to the one remnant of the Council that could barely get it up. Barely knew what sparkplay was.

  “I don’t see how this is so funny.” Optimus’s miffed tone made Starscream slide off his chest and curl up on the floor, still shaking with laughter. There was cleanser gathering in the corner of his good optic.

  Optimus tried to sigh in exasperation, but it teetered into deep chuckles at the end. He relaxed on the floor, one arm falling loosely around Starscream’s back. Languidly, the Seeker twitched his wings out of the way. Optimus’s arm was warm around his relatively chilled body.

  Their laughter subsided. Starscream lay still for a moment, his mind gloriously quiet. The absence of complicated plots and theories was almost jarring.

  “Hey.” He prodded the Convoy in the side. “We should try to finish this before Skywarp comes looking.” As much  _ fun _ as this was, they had a time limit.

  Optimus propped himself up. “Oh,” he said, frowning.

  “‘Oh’ what?” Starscream sat up and followed Optimus’s displeased gaze to his recessed spike. “Oh that,” he said dismissively. “It’ll come back with a little sparkplay.” He rolled right into Optimus’s lap and brushed his temporary chestplates over his partially closed ones.

  Optimus’s innermost armor retracted eagerly, sending a flush up his face. Starscream kept the Convoy off balance by rolling his hips as he wrestled with the clasps on his. At least this time, he got them open without Optimus offering to help. His spark, tuned to the proximity of its partner, pulsated hard in its chamber.

  “Right. I’m not feeling patient. You?” Starscream only gave Optimus a moment to teek with agreement before pressing himself flush to the mech’s broad chassis.

  Instantly, the simmering imbalance lurking in his spark stretched out in relief. Starscream thought he made a sound as he moved impossibly closer. He felt sparking hot and biting cold at the same time. The conflicting signals raced over his sensor net like lightning.

  Optimus rumbled a deep note as he rested a hand in the small of Starscream’s back. His other hand ghosted over the leading edge of a white wing. Starscream gasped and dug his digits into the Convoy’s hips. He wanted that spike. They could figure out how to work with their shared preference once the bond was settled.

  Starscream found Optimus’s spike by touch. It made the bigger mech flinch with surprise, but Starscream spun his digits around the head before the phallus could retract again.

  Trying not to part their synchronising sparks, he moved his hips back and aligned the spike with his posterior valve. That was his original and he prefered it when he could choose.

  Starscream rocked gently into the promising pressure at his entrance. His valve was urging him to shove down in one stroke, but he remembered how much that hurt. Instead, he contented himself with steady sparkpulses and slow rocking.

  ~I never thought it was,~ said Optimus suddenly.

  “Hm?” Starscream pulled his processing power back to the errant thought threads drifting through his helm. Optimus had found the one from Skywarp, the one about interfacing as a reward for helping Thundercracker.

  Optimus continued, sincerity consuming his side of the merge. ~I would have done the same for anyone who needed help, regardless of their relation to me or how I stood to gain.~

  ~Even Megatron? Or Sentinel? Or any other corrupt rapist Councilmech?~ Starscream pushed his awareness at Optimus, searching that… purity for cracks.

  ~Yes.~ Optimus didn’t hesitate. His resolve didn’t waver. If anything, it grew harder.

_ What are you? _ Starscream wondered. ~I wouldn’t,~ he answered aloud, letting haughty hate mask the fragile optimism growing in his chest. It felt like being newly forged and seeing the sky for the first time.

  ~I know you wouldn’t,~ Optimus answered. He was saddened by it, but not blameful. The sadness was directed towards the situations that had made Starscream so resentful.

  Starscream scowled. He was  _ proud _ that he had survived and emerged functional. He was  _ proud _ that he had laid waste to the Council and their chambers. He still remembered folding a tiny gunformer into his cockpit before setting the torture chamber ablaze. Fire and smoke from the Towers turned Iacon’s skies soot-grey for days. The expression on the freed slaves’ faceplates had made the carnage and agony worth it.

  Optimus teeked of apology. ~It was not my intention to belittle what you and your people have gone through. I merely regret that it happened in the first place.~

  Starscream twitched his wings up and down. ~It happened. Regret won’t change a thing if everyone just stews in it.~

  The wing twitch moved Starscream just enough that the head of Optimus’s spike popped past his valve rim. Starscream squawked, more surprised than hurt, and his bad hand slipped off Optimus’s chest. The rest of his frame dropped abruptly.

  “OW;  _ scrap!” _ The Seeker doubled over as pain lanced through his innards.

  “Starscream?” Optimus started to sit up.

_ “Don’t _ move.” Starscream vented a moment, directing his attention to his cervical platelets. “I don’t think anything’s broken. Just -ow.” He halted, awkwardly braced on top of Optimus.

  “How about you stay still?” Optimus suggested helpfully.

  Starscream shot him a dirty look. “You’re hilarious. Excuse me while I roll on the ground in mirth.”

  “Like earlier?” The Convoy’s innocent teek was in full force. The corner of his mouth betrayed him by turning up ever so slightly.

  Starscream snorted, amused. ~I’m fine, and I’m assuming you are too?~ he asked, using the bond because that’s what they were  _ supposed _ to be doing. He started rocking his hips gently.

  ~Yes?~ There was an undertone of ‘why wouldn’t I be?’ under it.

  ~Oh, no reason.~ Starscream passed a volley of energy, accompanying it with a few of the injuries spikes could incur from rough interfacing. 

  Optimus reacted with the typical alarmed fascination of mecha with spikes. ~Now I am glad I do not use it often.~

  Starscream snickered at him. ~Hardly anyone seems to know this, but valves are much more resilient than spikes. It helps that you can’t just grab and snap.~ Starscream recalled rather fondly the sound a pressurized spike made when it was bent too sharply.

  Optimus looked away, uncomfortable with the subject. Starscream decided to let it drop because Optimus’s spike was trying to make an escape. He pulsed his spark hard and circled his hips to stimulate all the periphery nodes. Pleasure coiled deep in his belly as Optimus made a soft sound. Big hands came to rest on Starscream’s sides, ghosting over the overlapping vent slots there.

  “No-o-o!” he squealed, wrigging away. Their conjoined sparks pulled sideways bizarrely. ~Don’t touch me there; that’s ticklish! How’d you like it if I stuck my fingers down your smokestacks?~ Starscream demonstrated, but jerked his digits away with a disgusted noise. ~What  _ is  _ this?~ There was black and sticky and gritty  _ gunk _ all over his fingers.

  ~Oops. I guess I need to clean those more often.~ Optimus put his warm hands on the undersides of Starscream’s wings, which was acceptable consolation for the earlier tickling. He still needed to pay for letting his smokestacks get so filthy, so Starscream wiped the gunk off on his shoulder.

  Optimus just sighed. ~Would it be possible to finish this up?~ he asked.

  ~What do you think I’ve been trying to do?~ Starscream rolled his optic. Finding pedeholds on the Convoy’s legs, he started rocking more vigorously. Optimus slid his hands to the sharp tips of his wings and toyed with the sensors there. The onslaught of sensation made Starscream push his wings down, encouraging those blunt digits towards the mobile flaps along the lower edge.

  In return, Starscream groped his way to Optimus’s audials and tweaked them backwards. Finding them more finely articulated than expected, he set about exploring their range of motion. Optimus shivered, right from his sparkchamber, as Starscream stroked the length of both audials. They were  _ very _ sensitive, Starscream noted deviously.

  But so were his wings. Starscream gasped, anterior node throbbing in an almost-overload as Optimus pushed his fingers under the plates of his wings and towards his spinal struts.

  “Pit -that’s -that’s good,” Starscream breathed. There was a fingertip brushing the place where most of his wing’s neural net spiraled together and attached to his central haptic net. The foreign touch sent icy lightning racing under his plating, all across his wing and back.

  Optimus rumbled a deep note in his audial. It vibrated the fragile crystal of their sparkchambers, adding to the swelling ecstasy storming there. Starscream felt Optimus flick through their linked systems in search of what had turned the Seeker into a trembling mess of lust and passion.

  Another deep protoglyph reverberated in their metal bodies. Optimus moved his other hand, using Starscream’s sensors to find the corresponding wire cluster. Starscream couldn’t help but strain into it. The back of his mind reminded him  _ not to be outdone _ and prompted him to find some sweet spots on the Convoy too. Starscream was not just a pretty thing to be admired; he could (and would!) give as good as he got.

  The Seeker stroked down the rounded underside of Optimus’s audials and traced to his neck cables. Claws retracted, he delved past the thick surface cables and into the finer tubes and wires beneath.

  Optimus twitched, his first reflex to protect the fuel lines feeding his processor. Bonding and interfacing protocols quelled it with  _ mate/pleasure/good. _ He pushed his spike a little deeper, stimulating nodes at the entrance to Starscream’s gestation tank.

  Biting the edge of the Convoy’s windshield, Starscream ground down on his anterior node. Finally,  _ finally _ an overload washed through his valve. It spread to his spark and out across his whole sensor net. Optimus’s digits curled tight inside his wings to pull their chassises closer together. Tense, trembling, they crested. Starscream left deep indentations in the Convoy’s windshield rim.

  Both mechs relaxed with harsh exvents. Starscream let his helm drop against his mate’s chest. He felt strutless and relieved, and entirely too tired to move. As Optimus removed his digits, Starscream merely loosened his flaps to make it easier.

  Across the growing divide, Starscream sensed Optimus deny bonding protocols. The insides of his chassis rippled unhappily, brushing against Starscream’s damaged plating. He grimaced as malcontent lanced through his frame.

  “I don’t know how long we can keep putting off an interlocking merge,” rasped the Seeker.

  Optimus shifted, hands tracing slow circles on Starscream’s wings. “I hope circumstances will be less dire next time, if only so we can fully satisfy the bond.”

  Starscream grunted as he sat up. He bared his dentae as the spike moved inside him, grating against sensors. The motion set the transfluid in his tank sloshing unpleasantly. Starscream closed his chestplates and lifted himself off Optimus with all possible speed. Silvery liquid dripped onto the floor and down his legs.

  “Frag it.” Starscream fumbled into his subspace for cleaning cloths. Seekers might not twitch a wing at an exposed interface, but Starscream had standards for cleanliness. He had no desire to remind his people the price he had paid for this ‘alliance’ -which was becoming more hopeful every day.

  Optimus sat up as well, keeping a polite distance from the cleaning Seeker. He too procured cloths and set about wiping himself down.

  Starscream opticked the mech with his one good optic. Optimus had no idea how much he had helped himself by aiding in Thundercracker’s rescue. That much was clear from their brief exchange of thoughts. In one move, he had displayed a willingness to risk himself for his mate -and a Seeker, at that. There would be mecha who would say Optimus only did it to gain favour with the Seekers. Those mecha clearly did not witness the rescue.

  There was shy knock at the door and a  _ question/letmein _ across Starscream’s trinebond. Skywarp. The white and red Seeker gave himself and Optimus a final once over before allowing Skywarp entrance.

  “Um,” said Skywarp.

  Starscream looked around. The gurney was overturned and the dirty floor was covered in scuff marks. He and Optimus sat, a leg-length apart, very obviously wiping up the evidence of their tryst. Since Optimus was being a blushing newspark, it fell to Starscream to take pride in his recently fragged status.

  “Hello Skywarp. Come to join in the fun?” Starscream smiled his pleasantest smile at his trinemate. It was remarkably similar to the smile that made mecha check for a knife between their vertebrae. 

  Skywarp, familiar with the many moods of Starscream, only suffered a slight itch at the sight of him so jovial. “Well, no,” he said, a trifle regretfully. “Just, there’s a situation at the edge of our security net.”

  Starscream was on his pedes in a moment, disregarding his body’s protests. “What sort of situation?” he asked, motioning for the Convoy to follow him. 

  Skywarp fell in step at his left as he made tracks towards the Command Perch. “Apparently there was an unpowered craft flitting around late in the light cycle. It -”

  “Why wasn’t I informed?” Starscream demanded.

  “The patrols thought it was a gyrefalcon or a sanddrake. And it was staying out of our territory,” Skywarp hastily explained. “But now it’s crashed and it’s  _ in _ our territory and the signature -it’s Autobot.”

 

~~~


	14. Chapter 14

All characters belong to their original creators. Only the writing itself is mine. 

“Blah” = Spoken dialogue

::Blah:: = Comm lines

_ “Blah” _ = Telepathy

_ Blah _ = Private thoughts

~Blah~ = Bonded talk

//Blah// = Sign Language

 

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

 

  A long and auspicious career of torquing mecha off, and this was how his lights were to go out. Eaten by a processor-defunct groundworm in the middle of the most deadly-but-dull desert on the planet.

  Jazz would have laughed if he wasn’t trying to keep the sand out of his mouth. His comm burbled unhappy static as the groundworm’s radar smothered it. Not that there was anyone who would or could respond to an Autobot distress signal around here.

  With his free arm, Jazz fired at the groundworm. The laser left a blackened mark across its ‘head’, but the thing barely flinched. Jazz cursed its semi-decentralized nervous system and thick anterior plating. The opticless head turned right towards him, mandibles twitching all around its maw.

  “Frag off,” said Jazz, shooting it right in the mouth.

  The creature  _ screel _ ed and reared back. For a sparkbeat, Jazz though it was going to spit at him. Then the groundworm stabbed its head into the sand and lived up to its name: it burrowed underground.

  “Scrap,” Jazz muttered. He wriggled, trying again to wrestle himself from the wreckage of his glider. One of the beams spanning the wings was crushed firmly in the small of his back, leaving his legs trapped under the rest of the contraption.

_ Ah can hear Prowl now, _ thought Jazz.  _ ‘I told you hang gliding is dangerous. It was only a matter of time before you crashed like this.’ Yeah, well, Ah told ya so ain’t gonna help me now. _

  The saboteur pulled tentatively on his right arm. Pain lanced through the struts, jumping across cables to dance in his shoulder. There was something broken in there, but Jazz couldn’t see what. The arm was pulled behind him and under the damaged wing of his glider.

  Something in the sand moved. Jazz fired at it on reflex. “C’mon ya bugger. Try me. Ah ain’t gonna letcha eat me wit’ outta fight.” Jazz panned his blaster over the still, dark sand. He could feel fuel pulsing through his lines. The groundworm could sense it too, he knew. The bristling sensors all around its mouth more than made out for the lack of optics.

  Penetrating pain stabbed into Jazz’s leg. He yelled and tried to kick. “Ya fragger!” His legs were pinned under the ruined body of his glider. “Ya cowardly piece of -scrap!” His voice leapt an octave as the groundworm’s mandibles broke through his armor and sank into his protoform. Coldness seeped into his lines.

  “No no no.” Jazz tried to kick again. His leg was going numb. The toxin crept swiftly up his leg and into his pump. From there, it spread to his whole body. The pain in his arm faded and his blaster slipped from his digits.

  “Primus no,” Jazz moaned, fumbling to pick up his weapon. His optics were slow to adjust, leaving his vision blurry.  _ Scrap it. It’s a venom that targets th’  _ frame, _ not th’ processor. _ Meaning Jazz was going to be awake while the groundworm devoured him.  _ Ah hope ya choke on ma upraised middle finger. _

 

  Seconds later, a hand seized Jazz by the arm and yanked. He heard the groundworm squeal furiously and felt laserfire sear past his audial horn. He was pressed close to a warm frame and held there by a single arm. His helm lolled back, affording him a glimpse of aristocratic features illuminated by the light of weapons and small explosions.

  “‘M glider,” Jazz slurred, twisting in the mech’s hold. It was really hard to fix his glider.

  “Shut up,” ordered the mech. The weaponsfire ceased and more pedes crunched on the sand. Unfamiliar voices complained about the filthy conditions.

  Jazz’s rescuer put him down and crouched in front of him. “Follow my finger,” he said.

  Jazz tried to blink the sand out of his optics, but the grit just dug in deeper. “Can’t,” he mumbled. “Th’ worm bit me.”

 “Sparks below.” His rescuer sat back, irritated. Jazz caught a glimpse of a blue expanse over his shoulder. A Seeker. Well. Things might be going his way after all. He blinked again, manually ordering cleanser into his optics. His vision blurred worse and the stinging distracted him for several minutes.

  When his sight returned (much improved) there was considerably more light. Shakily, Jazz lifted his helm and shoulders from the sand. Five or six Seekers clustered around the open door of a small hovercraft. They were speaking in quiet, hurried tones, helped along with their brightly flashing wings. Jazz groaned and shielded his optics

  Sensation was returning to his frame, bringing with it a burning promise of agony from his left leg. Momentarily forgetting his arm, Jazz tried to turn and check his limb. Splitting pain raced through his arm and stabbed into the heart of his engine.

  “Scrap fracking pit below!” Jazz gasped. He managed a glance at his arm. It was snapped in two, radius and ulna peeking through plating.

  “Quit whining, you strutless Grounder.” Someone tapped Jazz on the back of the helm. 

_ Ah, a medic. _ “How bad’s it, Doc? ‘M’Ah gonna live?” Jazz propped himself up on his good arm and took a look over his shoulder.

   A light orange and tan Seeker was hunched over his mangled leg, capping off lines. He side-opicked Jazz, but didn’t answer. At the sound of pedes approaching, Jazz faced front.

  “Does that  _ look _ like a sanddrake to you? Because to me it looks like the Autobot third in command who could probably  _ kill us all in our recharge!” _ The smallest of the Seekers gripped a companion by the wing, ranting at him. The berated Seeker ducked his helm and nodded along respectfully. The angry one was missing an impressive chunk of canopy, and a patch covered almost half his face.

  It took Jazz a moment, but the vocals and words were unmistakable. “Heya Screamer!” he called. “Ah dunno ‘bout a sanddrake, but Ah’m told Ah do a mean cybercat. ‘Specially th’ sneaky part.”

  Starscream’s one remaining optic narrowed dangerously. “Is he rigged to blow?” he asked the medic without breaking optic contact.

  “No.” The medic pinched a nerve in Jazz’s arm and it went blessedly dead. “He’s good to move.”

  Starscream nodded to a blue Seeker at his side. He stepped forward and hefted Jazz effortlessly, one arm under his aft and the other across his back.

_ “Yeep! _ At least buy me a drink, first!” the Polyhexian exclaimed. Jazz’s right arm swung uselessly against the Seeker’s side as he made a disgusted noise and carried the saboteur into the hovercraft. The transition from light to dark blinded Jazz for a second. While his gritty optics struggled to exchange filters, a powerful -familiar- EM enveloped him.

  “Jazz, what have you done to yourself?” Massive arms wrapped around him, easily pulling him from the blue Seeker. He was tucked to a warm chest as concerned digits probed his injuries.

  Despite everything, Jazz grinned. “Wha’s it look like, Bossbot? Ah’m here t’ rescue ya. See? This is me, rescuin’ ya.” The first thing that greeted his calibrating vision was Optimus’s smiling blue optics.

 

~~~

 

  Jazz passed out part way back to the town. Though initially worried, Optimus calmed after the medic informed him it was merely exhaustion and shock. Optimus settled against a wall, still cradling Jazz’s small form. The saboteur always made him feel oversized and clumsy. Especially in the days just after receiving the Matrix, he fretted about accidentally injuring the little mech.

  Absently, Optimus petted Jazz’s audials. He was relieved to have one of his mecha with him. Though the Seekers seemed less hostile after his help with Thundercracker, he was still the only Autobot -and Grounder- among a great many Seekers.

  “He’s your third, right?” asked Starscream as he collapsed beside him. “Glyph? Muse?”

  “Jazz,” Optimus corrected. He suspected Starscream already knew the designation. It was unlike him to go uninformed about the opposition.

  “Is he going to be a problem?” Starscream flexed his claws. He teeked of steely determination.

  “Unlikely. Jazz lived hand-to-mouth in Polyhex before he was recruited for Special Operations. I have never known him to harbor any positive sentiments towards the Functionalists.” Optimus adjusted Jazz so his broken arm was better supported. It was a clean break, for all the sand in it, and would probably heal easily. The leg was a different story. Whatever had attacked him had drilled through plating, leaving a mess of armor, wires, and lines. A hint of strut was visible through the disarray.

  Starscream grunted in acknowledgment. “I’ll have Pharma give him a once over, then I’ll have you two put somewhere. Get him caught up before letting him loose.” The Flier’s fans wheezed as he made to stand.

  “Wait.” Optimus caught him by the arm. “Your mecha can land the ship without you. Stay and rest. You are tired.”

  Starscream began to protest. “But I’m -”

  As though sensing an opportunity, Skywarp emerged from the slightly crowded hold and flopped over Starscream’s pedes. “Pet me, Scree,” he demanded petulantly.

  “Nugh.” Starscream pushed Skywarp’s side. The teleporter purred and leaned his weight into his trineleader. With an optic roll, the white and red Seeker stroked the flat of one wing.

  Optimus looked away to give the two their space. Out the windshield, the hovercraft’s lights cut through the barren night. Stretching out their longest arms and still finding nothing, they raced ahead of the speeding ship.

  “What happened to Jazz?” asked Optimus, focus drawn once again to the messy wound on the little mech’s leg. “Starscream?” He turned, expecting to see a clever red optic looking back. But the Seeker was asleep, helm drooping and hands slack. Skywarp’s dozing wing rested under his fingers. Optimus smiled and gently encouraged Starscream to lean on him.

  “It looked like a groundworm,” answered a nearby Seeker. He was light blue with darker blue accents that reflected the ship’s running lights as he slipped closer. “They’re nasty things with radula that can drill right through armor.”

  “I do not believe we have been introduced. Optimus.” He carefully left off his title as he extended his unoccupied hand in greeting.

  The Seeker canted his helm at the hand. “Bluefire,” he said, finally waving his hand over Optimus’s, just close enough to sample the other’s EM field. The powerful crackle and undertones in the teek informed Optimus he had been mistaken about Bluefire’s morph. Some of his surprise must have translated to his face, for the femme half-smirked.

  “Grounders,” she said. “Can’t tell a femme from a mech.” She turned her wings to Optimus and wove back into the tight pack.

  Just then, Optimus felt a shaking against his leg. It was Skywarp, struggling to contain his laughter. The Convoy sighed, meshing his EM with Skywarp’s so he knew he was free to laugh as much as he wanted.

  “Ha! What kind of femmes have you been around if you can’t tell the difference?” Skillfully, Skywarp wriggled away from Starscream without disturbing him and sprawled on Optimus’s other side. Optimus tensed at the full frame contact. His spark stumbled a beat, then picked its rhythm up again. Skywarp turned somber, wings stilling and EM growing alert.

  “I apologize,” Optimus said quickly. “It has been behaving oddly -”

  “Nah, it’s bond stuff.” Skywarp turned loose and liquidy again. “Means that me an’ TC’ll have to ‘face you soon.”

  Awkwardly, Optimus itched at an audial. Around the hovercraft, helms turned quickly away and a buzz of Seekercant rose.

  Optimus turned back to Skywarp. “Are you alright with that?” he asked quietly, hoping to garner at least an illusion of privacy.

  The teleporter shrugged, pushing a brittle grin across his faceplates. “Depends. How good’re you at wing rubs?”

 

~~~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I realized while re-reading this chapter that all the Seekers piled into the hovercraft even though they can fly. Either they all forgot, or they're just that protective of their Winglord.


End file.
